


Run to the Water

by Vixx2pointOh



Series: Run to the Water [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternative Universe - No Arrow, Alternative Universe - No Island, Awkward Romance, Bring tissues, Childhood Friends, Complete, Eventual Smut, F/M, FU RAY PALMER, Feels, First Time Cherry Pop, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending?, Olicity as Children, Oliver and his Tongue, Omnipresent POV, Peeping-Tomery, Purgatory is Worth It, Spooning, Time Period 1920s, You will love to hate him, downtown, tomfoolery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 137,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixx2pointOh/pseuds/Vixx2pointOh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1912, Oliver was 9 and far too old to be babysitting that nonsensical girl Felicity whose parents owned the cattle ranch where his parents worked and lived, but she won him over with oat and raisin biscuits and soon became his little blonde sidekick...with a completely unrequited crush on him.</p><p>Years later she returns from boarding school and more than bush fires ignite in the changing times....</p><p>***COMPLETED***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Men and Ladies

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in this summary it is set in the early to mid 1900s. Relative age gaps and names are the only carry through from the show. (I am aware Noah's last name is not Smoak, but for the sake of this story, it is).
> 
> If you are a history buff or look after cattle for a living please excuse any errors I make, my Googling is usually flawless, but you never know.
> 
> I am not American, please excuse any spelling or wording differences (I've also partially adopted the dialect from the day, have fun with it)
> 
> @someonesaidcake

**June, 1912**

  
The summer had only just begun, the flowers in the fields that ran along the baseline of the imposing mountains surrounding the extensive block of land had only just began to bloom. The day was new, barely an hour and after the first cock crow and Oliver was hiding.

He could hear his mother calling him as he pushed his small frame against the dirty back wall of the old barn a whole field away. He was 9 now, maybe only a few weeks ago but there was no way he was answering his mother’s call. That nonsensical girl was there again looking for him and he was far too old to be bothered babysitting Felicity Smoak, the annoying little 5 year old who insisted on running from her parents’ sprawling house to his parents’ decidedly less-sprawling cabin a mile away.

....and she was there again this morning, so he was hiding from her. He was far too old to be hanging around with a child, let alone a girl.

“Oliver Queen, I know you’re in here,” his mother stood in the light of the doorway, wiping her hands on her soiled apron.

He tried to stem his breathing as he ducked lower behind the hay bales.

Maybe she’d leave.  
“Oliver.”  
Who was he kidding? His mother wasn’t going anywhere.

He huffed loudly as he slid out from his hiding place.  
“Oliver Jonas Queen, don’t scuff your shoes,” she replied in a tone that could only be described as motherly  
“Mam, don’t make me look after that girl, it ain’t right,” he pouted, running a frustrated hand through his sandy blonde hair  
“Oliver, I don’t need to remind you that her parents provide us with our house and your father’s job,” her tone was kindly, but he knew what was coming

Robert Queen had worked at Verdant Ranch since before Oliver was born and its locale was all Oliver had known. The Smoaks were one of the richest families in town – Oliver had little understanding of just how wealthy they were, all he knew was that his pants had patches sewn in on the knees, whereas Felicity had a different dress almost daily.

They were fair and generous to their workers, and always spoke kindly to them, but the great divide of wealth was plainly obvious.  
“So if that little girl wants to follow you around while you do your chores, then you’ll be a gentleman and let her,” she licked her thumb and smoothed it across a patch of dirt on his face, much to his grimaced disgust.

He knew there was no point arguing with her.  
He huffed one last time for good measure till he mounted his colt.

He found Felicity sitting on the fence of the horse training circle beside the stables. Verdant Ranch was first and foremost a cattle ranch, but they also had a great stock of thoroughbred horses that were well sought after.

Felicity jumped from the post where she had waited, like every other morning when they didn’t have classes. Her blond hair floated in the wind, whipping across her young peached cheeks.  
“Good morning buttercup,” Felicity smiled her pert lips at the colt as Oliver dismounted  
“I told you that ain’t his name,” he growled unable to hold his eyes from rolling back  
“Well Flash, _isn’t_ a very good name,” she blinked up at him, completely aware of her deliberate attack on his rough grammar.

“What would a girl know ‘bout it? _Ain’t_ nothing,” he replied, walking Flash into the stables  
Felicity pouted over her objection, but decided better of it. She shrugged and dutifully followed him as he led Flash inside and into a stall.

Felicity wrapped her arm around a centre pole in the stables kicking the dirt underfoot. Oliver looked at her with unreserved annoyance.  
“You wanna go to the lake?” she asked sweetly, twirling the skirt of her yellow and white dress.  
“I got chores to do,” he mumbled, running a brush down Flash’s mane.  
“I could help,” she smiled brightly across at him, oblivious to his blatant distaste for her “and then you could take me.”

Oliver was about to reject that proposal when he saw his mother looking over at him from a second doorway in a short space of time.

He sighed, the annoyance lost on Felicity, as he dutifully agreed.

So began their Saturday morning ritual that continued for years. She would meet him on the same fence post every morning, help him with his chores till near on noon, then ride on the back of Flash down to the lake at the far southern boundary of the property.

As the Saturdays flew by Oliver saw Felicity Smoak as less of an annoyance and more as the girl who would always bring him his favourite biscuits wrapped up in a red and white terrycloth, help him with his chores then talk about nothing of much importance beside the lake, like a little blonde sidekick.

* * *

  
**September, 1916**

The day had started much like every other Saturday. Oliver had already devoured the biscuits Felicity had brought him, oat and raisin today, by the time they had reached the second chore. The sun was high for mid morning. Scorching across the dry scrub land much of the estate had been turned into.

Thirteen year old Oliver wiped the terrycloth across his brow as a 9 year old (almost 10 she would say) Felicity billowed out her dress, desperate for any breeze to touch against her legs. Her mother was vividly opposed to Felicity wearing shorts, adamant it wasn’t proper for a girl of Felicity’s standing.

Donna Smoak, although kind and well-meaning, was also not fond of these Saturday mornings Oliver and Felicity would spend together. She saw the way her daughter was smitten with the skinny farm hand who always had a swipe of dirt on his face and no good would come of that.

Noah Smoak was a quiet man who had little to say, unless the matter was important enough and then he would speak in a way that would garner instant respect. He was a decidedly hard worker with a keen eye for business propositions. He did not hold the same feelings as Donna in regard to their daughter’s choice of clothing or Saturday morning activities, but he chose his battles and for now this was not one he needed to make a stand on.

“Have you ever been into the mountains?” Felicity asked, nodding towards the rambling mountains just past the eastern boundary.  
Oliver looked up from the feed bucket and shook his head.  
“Reckon we ain’t supposed to,” Oliver chewed over his words.  
“They say there’s a waterfall around there that comes from the top, imagine how cold that would be.” Felicity sighed fanning her hand in front of her face.

The idea struck Oliver like a wet towel to his forehead, the idea that there might be some truth to her words and there was in fact a body of water hidden in the valleys that was unheated by the sun’s scorching rays, was a tortuous tease.

“Who told you that?” he asked, side eying his little helper.  
“I heard the kids at school talking ear about it. They say it’s so cold it would it would make a popsicle seem warm” Felicity shrugged.

Oliver grunted off the suggestion, but it the idea still sat in the back of his mind. His imagination rolling over visions of ice cubes floating past him.

“You hear how to get there?” he asked, casually pulling the brim down on the hat that was ever so slightly too big for him.  
“They say you take old Miller’s path, then veer to the left at a big dead oak, it’s about a 10 minute ride up from there,” Felicity blinked her clear blue eyes up at Oliver, watching him closely as his head toyed with the information.

“If we leave now, we’d be back before noon, no one would miss us till then,” Felicity smiled, reading the thoughts running through Oliver’s young mind.  
He looked around, there was not a soul near the stables, they were all down doing a check on the cattle at the south-east boundary, Felicity was right, no one would come looking for them for at least 2 hours.

“Alright, but we gotta go now,” Oliver announced, setting down the feed just outside the gate.  
Felicity skipped on the spot as she hopped the fence behind him.  
“And you gotta keep your mouth sealed shut on this, our folks would near throttle us,” he warned.

Less than 10 minutes later, they were riding off into the bushes as fast as Flash would take them, not a single eye aware of their departure.

Felicity hugged her arms around Oliver’s waist, her head laying against his back. It was obvious to everyone but Oliver that the small girl had a huge crush on him. Only on Friday she had been given a detention at recess for, as her teacher put it _daydreaming_.

The truth was she had been writing her name with Oliver’s last name on a tiny scrap of paper she managed to stick down her sock before the teacher snapped the yard stick on her desk.

Oliver barely acknowledged her at school, preferring to spend his time with his friends that were in the same class. Felicity knew little of them, Oliver didn’t speak all that much about them – in fact, without prompting from her, he didn’t speak much at all.

Felicity knew their names, Tommy Merlyn was the son of the drug store owner in town, he would catch Felicity looking at Oliver during recess and give her a smile, like he understood. The other was a girl, Laurel Lance, her father was the deputy and was friends with Felicity’s father, but Laurel paid even less mind to Felicity if she ever came with her father, always wearing a scowl where a smile would be better. Nope, Felicity didn’t care much for her and she was pretty certain the feeling was mutual.

But Laurel wouldn’t ruin this moment, the moment Felicity enjoyed the most, her head laid against Oliver’s back listening to the thumping of his heartbeat, matching the echoing of hooves trampling over the ground underfoot.

It was a rough ride, up terrain that would have been tough for even the most seasoned of riders on the most experienced of horses, but they made it in around 30 minutes. Nestled amongst a curtain of ferns and the tallest trees Oliver had laid his young eyes on was a river that ducked and weaved its path through the forest floor, feeding to a small but cascading waterfall and a good sized pool at the bottom.

Oliver dismounted first then offered his hand for Felicity as he always did. She smiled brightly as she held his hand and jumped from the saddle.

Oliver looped the reins over a tree branch and made his way to the pool’s edge. It looked deceptively shallow, but the sudden change of colour in the middle meant that the ground underneath dipped at that point.

“Are we going in?” Felicity asked, standing beside him.  
“Did you bring bathers?” Oliver asked, slipping off his shoes.  
“Did you?” Felicity retorted as she watched him neatly place his shoes and hat to one side.  
“I’m a man, I don’t need ‘em, I can swim in my trunks,” he smirked, peeling off his t-shirt and neatly folding it.

“Well, I don’t need them either,” Felicity snapped, her hands finding their place on her hips, “I can swim in my bloomers,”  
Her mother would have fainted at the mere mention of such a thing.

“I suppose so, after all, you ain’t much of a lady,” Oliver snorted, removing his pants and folding them up atop his shirt.

“I am to a lady,” Felicity pouted shyly taking off her boots.  
“No you ain’t,” Oliver laughed, dipping his toe into the, true to legend, icy cold water.

Felicity jostled with her sundress pulling it up over her head, revealing her white cotton camisole and matching bloomers.

“Well you aren’t much of a man then,” Felicity fired back, a decidedly wicked glint in her eyes as she closed the gap between them.  
“I’m certain that I am,” Oliver replied, his back turned to her, his hands wading through the water, adjusting his warm body to the cool temperature.  
“I’m certain you aren’t,” Felicity smiled, before using whatever strength she possessed to push him face first into the icy water.

It was only waist deep, but he came up sputtering and his bottom lip shivering at the sudden plunge in temperature.

“What kind of lady does something like that?” he coughed, wiping the long lengths of his hair back from his forehead.  
“The right kind,” Felicity shrugged, stepping into the water.

Oliver waded out into the deeper area of the pool, his body now fully submerged in the crisp water.  
“I’m sure your future husband will be thrilled to have you,” Oliver joked, splashing a hand of water her way.  
Felicity stopped as the water lapped against her small waist, her blonde curls dancing just the tips into the water.  
“Oliver Queen, no man is going to _have me_ , I’m my own person, not someone’s possession,” she snapped sternly, the idea that she might belong to another person was a touchy one for her.

She may have been young, but she understood how the world worked. The teachers taught the girls only how to cook and sew and look after a house. She would hear the other girls talk about their future careers – as mothers and wives; and while Felicity was inherently smitten with Oliver, she soured at the idea of belonging to anyone at the cost of losing herself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he replied genuinely.  
Felicity huffed through a nod as she proceeded to wade in deeper, till she tread water underfoot, the ground no longer within her reach.  
“Well good, because my husband will appreciate that I’m a strong woman, with goals and a brain,” she smiled before diving her head under the water.

“I ain’t getting married,” Oliver shrugged, swimming over to the slow running waterfall.  
“And why is that?” Felicity asked, her brows furrowing at the suggestion, given she had already planned that he would get married – to her.  
“Girls are trouble, I reckon that women would be worse,” Oliver called behind him as he clambered onto the rock face behind the waterfall.

He didn’t see Felicity’s lips fold over each other in hurt at her dashed dreams.  
“Well I’m not any trouble,” she called towards him, his face curtained behind the water.  
“Nah, you ain’t much trouble, but you also ain’t much of a lady,” he laughed, diving back into the pool beside her sending a wave of water crashing against her.

Felicity spluttered through the water caught in her mouth as she waded to the edge of the pool and pulled herself out.  
“Well you’re just a mean boy,” she snapped back, a littering of tears from her eyes mixing with the water on her paled face.

She wasn’t upset that he had splashed her, that was something he did frequently in the lake, but rather she was upset at the notion that he didn’t see her at all the way she saw him. She had been able to brush most of his coyness aside, deciding that when Oliver Queen grew up a little more he would see her as more than a child – despite the fact she was – and that one day he might just see her the way her innocent blue eyes saw him.

Oblivious to the impact his words had had on her small heart he frowned at her sudden exit from the water.  
“It’s just a bit of water,” he sighed, wading to the edge where she had left.  
“I want to go home now,” she breathed, swiping back the water and tears from her cheeks.

Oliver’s ears pricked as he pulled himself from the water beside her.  
“I want to-“ Felicity started before Oliver placed his hand against her mouth, his head moving towards a sound he could hear.  
“Do you hear that?” he asked, water dropping down his chest and arms, pooling underfoot.  
Felicity listened, squinting her eyes instinctively till she heard was he must have.

“The fire bell,” she yelped, her ears picking up the faint and distant clanging of the bell that was used on the ranch to warn of a fire close to the property.

“Shit,” Oliver cursed, flicking his hat onto his head and throwing the rest of the clothes into the saddle bags

Both Oliver and Felicity knew what that bell meant, and they knew that if they didn’t get back to the ranch in record time they were both going to get it.

It was Oliver’s job to help his father and the other ranch hands to drive the cattle to the water whenever that bell rung and Felicity had had it well drummed into her that if the fire was close to the house then she too was to go to the lake.

It was known around the ranch as the _run to the water_ bell, the longer it rang out for the larger the fire and this one was still going.

Oliver untied flash and mounted him in one go. Still dripping wet he pulled Felicity up onto the saddle behind him and charged down the mountain path.

* * *

  
They managed to make the descent down the path quicker by 12 minutes, but the stables were overrun with people when they finally jumped the last fence onto the ranch property.  
“Oliver, where have you been?” his mother snapped, appearing almost from nowhere, a toddler Thea in her arms.  
“I’m sorry mam,” Oliver blinked down, his chest heaving with adrenaline.

He could see the smoke along the south-eastern boundary, the same one where his father had been working the cattle that morning.

Moira looked past Oliver and saw a dripping wet Felicity clinging onto the back of him. The fire was nowhere near the houses so she didn’t need to go to the lake.  
“Take Felicity home, then meet your father down in the far paddocks, it’s a full head count down there, he’ll need all the help he can get,” she said before slapping the rear of the horse, sending them on their way.

Oliver pulled to a stop outside Felicity’s house where her mother was waiting on the porch, her arms folding over each other as she saw them approach. Felicity jumped down without Oliver’s help and the instant her feet touched the ground he was off again, galloping at full speed down towards the billowing smoke.

Felicity’s head dropped as she walked slowly up the stairs. This was going to be rough.  
“Where have you been?” Donna asked sharply, before taking a breath and settling her tone, “I was very worried about you.”

Felicity shrugged, she knew telling her where they had been would get her instantly sent to her room without a look in for supper.

“And why are you wet?” then Donna noticed her daughter’s attire, “and practically naked,” she almost screamed as she ferried Felicity inside, a housemaid scurrying towards them with a towel.

“We just went to a swimming hole,” Felicity sighed as her father entered the room.  
“You see your daughter Noah, she’s swimming with boys in her underwear, you still think it’s innocent?” Donna snapped, smoothing down the full pleat of her dress.

She was a well-meaning lady, but often prone to over dramatizing moments and it appeared to Felicity this was one of those moments.  
“That boy led her away from the farm,” she was almost crying now, pulling an embossed handkerchief from her pocket.  
“It wasn’t his idea, it was mine,” Felicity snapped angrily, holding the towel tight across her shivering body.  
“And now your daughter is yelling at me,” Donna sniffed, placing her hand to her chest in recoiled horror.

“Shit,” Felicity huffed, her hand snapping to her mouth an instant too late to stop the word from being heard.

Donna stumbled backwards, her eyes wide with fright as though Felicity had just announced she planned to kill puppies for a living.  
“Felicity, its best you go up to your room and get yourself changed,” Noah said calmly, but without any suggestion Felicity had a choice in the matter.

Felicity bowed her head and ran up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her. 

* * *

It was well after sundown by the time the bulk of the fire had been contained and what was left embering in the foothills would be watched during the night and dampened out as best as could be in the morning.

Oliver was covered head to toe in dirt and soot as he sat by the edge of the lake, unwilling to venture back to the house just yet. His stomach was turning in on itself, but he knew returning there he would be in line for a right turning down and he wasn’t ready to face that, not quite yet.

*******

Felicity sat at the top of the stairs, listening to her parents – well, her mother mostly, talking in the living room.  
“She’s getting too old for this Noah, she’ll be blooming soon and we can’t have her thinking it’s okay to be flitting off with that boy,” she heard her mother saying, she imagined her pacing as she spoke.

“He’s a nice boy, Donna, I don’t see why you’re getting worked up about this, they’re just children,” he father replied, she imagined in between draws on his cigar.  
“I’m sure he’s just lovely, but I’m afraid Felicity has a crush on him, one of the maids found this note in her sock.”

Felicity’s eyes widened, she hadn’t taken the _Felicity Queen_ scribbles from her sock at the end of the day.

There was silence in the room before she heard her father snigger just a little.  
“It’s not funny, you know that we can’t allow this to develop, Felicity is our only daughter, there are rules.”

Felicity imagined her father huffing at the idea. He was a smart man, and a savvy man, but he never did quite understand the rules society placed on virtually everything, but Felicity also knew that he would often side with his wife if it meant her continued happiness.

“So what would you have us do?” he grumbled, his tone an exacerbated one.  
“My sister Matilda in New York will take her. There is a boarding school not far from her house, Felicity can go there, it’s one of the top ones in the country for young ladies.”

Felicity found her mouth gaping. Her Aunt Matilda was a wretched spinster who hated even the mere mention of a man. She found herself praying to whatever deity that might hear her that her father would shoot down that suggestion.

“If that’s what you wish dear,” came his response.  
“I’ll set to making the arrangements, she can leave in a week when school breaks.”

Felicity felt the tears welling up behind her eyes, she stumbled back up the stairs and into her room. She could stomp her feet, yell and plead all she liked – she knew it would make no difference. She would be heading to New York in a week.

She threw a not-too-well-thought-out mixed bunch of clothing, her hairbrush, the food the housemaid had snuck up to her for supper and the contents of the top drawer of her vanity into a knapsack and pulled up the window of her second storey room.

She clambered out onto the slated roof, her feet slipping against the mossy tiles – if she could get around to the other side of the roof she could make the jump onto the oak tree beside the house and climb down from there. She’d never done it before, but it was worth the chance.

“Now what are you doing?” Oliver smiled, atop Flash a few feet from her, his eyes looking up at her.  
“I don’t have any time for you right now Oliver, I’m running away,” she huffed, now practically crawling along the slanting roof.  
“You’re gonna fall and crack your head right open,” he laughed, walking Flash to the base of the tree where she headed.  
“If you’re not going to be any help, you can just-“ she stumbled backwards, her feet slipping from the edge of the roof, her elbows digging into the guttering.

Oliver walked underneath her, the height of the horse enough for him to touch her dangling legs.  
“Let yourself drop a little, I got you,” he assured, his hands slipping up either side of her legs.  
“You promise?” she asked, her tone a frightened one  
“You can trust me Felicity, I got you,” he repeated, his hands moving to her waist as she let her body drop a little further.

When she felt his grip around her and felt her feet gazing either side of Flash she felt a wave of relief. He guided her down, his hands staying glued to her waist as she sat down into the saddle in front of Oliver – a place he’d never let her sit previously.

“See, I told you, I got you,” he smiled, his breath warm against her neck.  
He wouldn’t have known it to look at her, but she was blushing a deeper shade of pink than normal.  
“Now are you gonna tell me what all that was about, I reckon you have a pretty nice set of stairs inside,” he laughed, backing Flash out from under the roof eave.

“Can you take me for a ride?” Felicity asked, her lips curling over her question.  
“You got any food in that bag?” Oliver asked boyishly.  
“Some raisin rolls and cornbread,” she shrugged.  
Oliver thought on it for a few seconds before a light on the porch around the corner came on.  
“Mmm, okay, that’ll do fine,” he smiled before taking off in a gallop back down the hill into veil of the thick evening sky.

* * *

“So New York is supposed to be nice and fancy, suit you perfect I reckon,” Oliver said, his body lay out in the tall grass at the lake’s edge looking up towards the spattering of first stars, a raisin roll gripped tightly in his hand.

“Won’t you miss me, even a little?” Felicity asked, her body hiding behind a tree as she changed into her bathers.  
“You’ll only be gone a month or two, no one could put up with you for any longer than that,” Oliver laughed.  
“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Felicity sighed, appearing from behind the tree.

“Maybe New York will make you a lady after all,” Oliver replied, watching as Felicity waded into the lake, the new moon bouncing its full light off the calm surface.  
“And if I come back here a lady, what do you suppose you’ll be?” Felicity retorted, glancing back over her shoulder at him.

“I reckon I’ll be a man by then,” Oliver shrugged, dropping his trousers to join her in the water.  
“With a wife and a house in town,” Felicity mocked, stepping up onto a rock that jutted out from the water.  
“I told you, I ain’t getting married and I don’t need a house,” Oliver shrugged, wading in next to her.

“Where will you sleep if you don’t have a house?” she asked, bemused by his complete lack of forethought at his future.  
“Wherever my hat falls,” Oliver replied simply.

Felicity shot out her hand and waited for Oliver to take hold of it.  
“What’s that for?” he laughed, batting it away.  
“Take my hand Oliver, seeing as I’m taller than you.”  
“You’re standing on a rock, that hardly seems fair” Oliver retorted, truth was he wasn’t that much taller than her, his growth spurt wouldn’t hit him for another 6 months.

He dutifully took her hand, the water skimming just above his knees.  
“Now promise me that when I come back a lady, you’ll treat me like one,” she said sternly, her eyes glancing between him and the moon in front of them.  
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Oliver snorted, slipping forward on the rocks underneath.  
“Say it Oliver Queen, say you’ll treat me like a lady.”  
“Fine,” he huffed, “ _if_ you come back a lady, I’ll treat you like a lady.”  
“Swear it on the new moon,” she instructed, her wet hair, lightly flicking back in the warm night breeze.

Oliver sighed through open lips.  
“Fine, I swear it on the new moon.”

* * *

The coach waited expectantly as the last of Felicity’s bags were loaded in. True to her mother’s word, a week to the day she was heading off to New York, unaware just how long she would be staying for.

She had asked her mother to make one last trip to see Oliver that Saturday morning, and begrudgingly her mother allowed it, giving her twenty minutes to say her goodbyes until she would send someone to fetch her back.

Felicity waited atop the same fence post with the red and white terrycloth full of biscuits gripped tightly in her shaking hands. There was no smile on her face this time, in fact her flushed cheeks were speckled with fresh tears.

Oliver appeared from the stable, surprised to see Felicity there.  
“Mam said you’d gone,” he smiled, walking up to her, almost glad to see her there.  
“The coach is waiting, I just wanted to bring you this,” she jutted out her arms to reveal the wrapped terrycloth.

Oliver nodded his acceptance at the gesture as he watched Felicity hop down off the fence post.  
“I’ll miss you,” she sniffed, folding her arms around his shoulders.  
Oliver awkwardly patted her back with his free hand.  
“I guess I’ll miss you too, but it won’t be for too long, you’ll be back feeding the pigs with me in no time,” he grinned naively.

Felicity pulled away, blinking back the tears.  
“Goodbye Oliver,” she managed half a smile before she turned on her heels and ran back towards her house, afraid if she stood there any longer her young heart would break even more.  
“Bye Felicity,” Oliver called out after her, still oblivious to the heart he held.

He unwrapped the terrycloth, eager to see what Felicity had brought him today. He found his favourite, oat and raisin, together with a small envelope with his name on it.

He placed the biscuits atop the fence post and opened the envelope. Out fell a man’s silver looped-linked necklace with a small rectangle pendant, no more than an inch long, hanging off it. Felicity had spent every last bit of pocket money to her name to buy it from the jeweller in town, paying extra for Oliver’s initials to be carefully engraved on the back.  
_For when you’re a man_ the note simply said.

He smiled at the inference contained in those few words, imagining he would have her up on it when she returned for Christmas in a few months.

Little did he know he wouldn’t see her again for 7 years.

*******

Felicity looked back towards the stables as the coach moved along the dusty driveway.  
Little did she know that she wouldn’t see that view, or Oliver, again for 7 years


	2. Welcome Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments from chapter 1, love you all xoxo

**March, 1924**

The brisk air whipped up against her flushed cheeks, splays of hair flicked against her face like tiny whips, her heart rate rose, her breath barely contained in her lungs. Tiny smatterings of rain fell like miniature cannon balls against her bare shoulders, the ludicrously expensive silk shawl that had once been around them had slipped from her moments earlier and she couldn’t care less.

Splatterings of dirt that had been kicked up under hoof, marred her once pristine ivory dress and her once perfectly primped blonde hair in its fashionable curls was now waving wildly in loose sections, the pearl hairclip hanging in by only a few strands.

She must have looked like a mad woman – but she didn’t care in the slightest because for the first time in seven and a half years she felt free as she rode at full gallop across the idyllic countryside heading towards a place she had once called home.

*******

Oliver saw her in the distance as he sat with his back propped up against a rock, nestled against a rolling hill, it was still early enough in the day that no one would miss him just yet and, as Flash ate the apple he’d thrown to him, he had stolen 10 minutes on the way back from town to enjoy the silence of no one expecting anything from him.

She was at a full gallop when Oliver watched the white length of material slip from around her shoulders and float hauntingly to the ground below. She had looked back when it happened, reached back an un-gloved hand, but had not slowed or stopped to pick whatever she had dropped.

She looked like a woman more suited to a car driven at a suitable pace than a horse that seemed excessively large. Oliver had decided in the few moments it took him to mount the saddle that she was in need of rescuing.

*******

Felicity never saw or heard him coming until he was riding alongside her. The suddenness of his appearance gave her such a fright that she dropped her right hand from the reins causing the horse she had commandeered from the nice man her parents had sent to pick her up from the train station to buck at her loss of control.

The large stallion veered left, the unexpected change in direction resulting in Felicity’s less than ideal heeled shoes slipping from the stirrups. She slipped a little in the saddle with the loss of her footing as she reached for the reins.

It was at that moment that Felicity finally stole a moment to see the face of the person who had intruded into her high-speed jaunt across country fields. She saw it the instant her eyes met with his, she had spent years searching those eyes to the point that the flicker of royal blue in the iris of one of them was permanently etched into her memory. She traced her eyes along his brows, darker now than they once were, across his cheekbones which had become more prominent and down his jaw now rough with a few days’ worth of stubble. Her eyes settled on his lips and she felt 9 again, the little girl dreaming that one day those lips would be the first to touch softly against hers – she could never forget that face, it was Oliver Queen.

*******

Oliver saw her staring up at him, her crystal blue eyes framed with dark lashes and neatly groomed brows, just a hint of colour in the arches. Her painted peached lips parted over words he couldn’t hear over the noise of the galloping hooves. At the same time he realised he too must have been staring, but despite that knowledge he couldn’t look away, she was breathtakingly stunning – effortlessly beautiful. She certainly wasn’t from around these parts – in fact he was certain he’d never seen someone even half as beautiful as she was – even with her mess of hair and dirtied clothes.

*******

He was reaching for her, or the reins – she couldn’t tell which, but the unfamiliar horse jolted again at the motion of another horse close beside, causing her to slip again in rough leather saddle. She felt the fabric tear across her thigh, the delicate chiffon on her dress no longer able to handle the stress her movements were making across it.

Felicity saw the instant Oliver’s eyes snapped to her now exposed thigh. In all the years she had spent watching him she had never seen the look that was on his face at that moment. It was one she had seen on many other boys in New York, but never on the face of her Oliver.

He reached for the reins once more, his arm sliding against her bare leg – she had discarded those awful stocking Aunt Matilda had insisted she wore the instant the train had pulled away from Grand Central Station. He caught the reins in his large hands, the weathered glove he wore puckering at the palm as he eased back on the reins, his other hand mimicking the action on Flash.

Both horses slowed before walking down to a complete stop, Felicity’s horse clamping down a foot impatiently.

“I didn’t need help, I was fine,” Felicity pouted, pushing a mattering of curls behind her ear.  
“I’m sorry miss, you just look at little out of your element,” Oliver replied, dismounting in fluid motion, his eyes carelessly walking up her leg.

Felicity smiled waiting for a recognition that never came.  
Oliver extended his hand to help her down, a habitual gesture it was clear he had not discarded over the years.

Felicity laid her hand into his, a snapshot she took in her mind now making it abundantly clear how much had changed over the years. His hands were large and hidden under heavy leather riding gloves much like the ones his father had worn. Her hands were decidedly smaller, smooth and ivory coloured, a gloss of pearlescent polish on her nails. Neither had the hands of children anymore.

It had, after all, been seven and a half years.

She folded her leg over the saddle preparing to dismount when her, once again, problematic shoes caught the heel on the dropped reins. Before she could process what was happening she had fallen into his unsuspecting arms, which faltered his own balance sending them both spilling to the ground, his impressively large stature crushing in on her slim frame.

“You’re really sweaty Oliver,” she breathed, her hand somehow under the loose soft cotton fabric of his shirt.  
His brows pinched inward – _she knew his name?_

Felicity watched his expression openly reveal his inner thoughts. She saw then that he had absolutely no idea who she was.  
“Oliver?” she said again, her tongue dancing across her dewy lips as she spoke it.

Still nothing but an adorably confused look. Felicity almost laughed when she spotted the swipe of dirt across his face. He had grown, but barely changed at all.

Felicity nodded her head towards Flash who was trotting circles nearby.  
“Flash still isn’t a very good name for a horse,” she winked.  
It took only a few moments before her remark finally registered for him.

“Felicity?” he asked curiously, his body still pushed up on top of hers.  
“In the flesh,” she smiled, “which is currently slightly crushed under your, uh, flesh.”

Oliver, with wide eyes and a gaped mouth, finally realised he was still on top of her, springing off her in one fast movement.  
“Felicity, you look-“ he paused over his next words as he extended his hand towards her to help her up.  
“Stupid I know,” she laughed, gripping his hand and standing up.  
“Aunt Matilda insisted I wear this garb, and now it’s a little tattered,” she shrugged, lightly touching her fingertips over the torn section and across her smooth thigh.

“I was going to say nice, you look, uh nice,” he stammered, trying not to gaze too long at her curved leg.  
She blushed at his compliment – it was not the first time one had been paid to her, but secretly it felt like the only one that mattered.

Felicity could see the mountain range that surrounded Verdant Ranch not far in the distance, she sighed softly, idly rolling her tongue under her teeth.  
“Will you walk with me Oliver? I want to enjoy it out here, free, a little longer,” she breathed, her blue eyes gazing up at him.

Oliver nodded his agreement as he took the reins of Felicity’s horse into his hands and did a short and sharp whistle for Flash to follow along.  
“You have him trained up well,” she smiled as they began a leisured walk back to the Ranch.

Oliver nodded, struggling to find words when all he could think about was just how different she looked.  
“You’re looking at me like I’m some sort of weird folk,” she laughed, toying nervously with lose strands of her golden hair.  
“Well I reckon it’s probably because you don’t look anything like I remember you,” Oliver smiled, shrugging his broad shoulders.

“I ought to hope so, it’s been over 7 years,” Felicity blinked up at him, surprised at how nervous she felt around him.  
She saw the dip of his head and his smile slowly drop when she mentioned how long it had been.  
“Near on 8 years,” he repeated softy, a sadness in his tone.

He shook his head absently before he sparked up a different conversation.  
“How was New York?” he asked, his head staying locked forward.  
“Full of buildings and cars and people that get in cars to get to buildings,” she shrugged, breathing in the fresh country air as deeply as she could, “it isn’t anything like this place,” she sighed.  
“Well, I reckon it must have suited you well, you never come back to visit.”

Felicity instantly detected the rashness in his voice – he really hadn’t changed at all, she could still read him like a book – a book with pictures, because his face gave it all away.  
“Well that wasn’t my doing, I’ll have you know,” she pouted, almost stomping her foot as she halted her walk.

Oliver shrugged and kept on walking, whistling again to Flash who was lagging behind.  
“You don’t get to say things like that and then just walk away without letting me explain it,” she shouted as the distance between them grew.

“It ain’t nothing that needs explaining, you got out, moved on. Some of us stayed,” he shrugged, stopping his walk, but leaving his back towards her.  
“You mean like you?” she asked rhetorically taking a few steps towards him, he was now only an arm’s reach away.  
“Are your parents still working at the Ranch?” Felicity asked, holding back her hand from reaching out to him like she wanted.

She watched as Oliver’s back stiffened as his head rocked softly side to side.  
“Why did you even come back here? You clearly left this place far behind,” he growled under his breath as he whistled a longer burst causing Flash to canter up beside him.

“Here’s your horse,” he said bluntly, pushing the reins of the other horse into her palm.  
“I got work to get back to,” he continued, mounting his saddle, “miss,” he tipped his hat before galloping away.

Felicity looked around confused, he seemed so embittered about her not coming back over the years, but that choice had not been given to her, her Aunt insisting to her parents that such a trip would cause Felicity to feel dreadfully homesick and stunt her education. Dutifully her mother had bowed to her older sister’s advice and they had always visited her, never allowing her to come home. She could understand Oliver’s impression on the situation, but it was what she had said afterwards and his reaction to it that had her most confused.

When she had asked about his parents, he had rolled his head, almost in disbelief at the question and then his tone had turned dark, almost angry. She had heard the same tone from him the day she had mindlessly left the gate open letting the goat and three pigs escape, Oliver had spent the afternoon trying to round them up and 8 year old Felicity had spent the night in tears assuming he would never talk to her again.

He had spent the next morning’s walk to school extolling the importance of locking gates. Felicity had dutifully listened and once they reached the school gate he had winked at her and boyishly ruffled a hand through her hair. She would have ordinarily pouted at him messing up her plaits, but that morning she was just glad to be back in his good books.

The look he gave her moments earlier gave her that same ominous feeling.

* * *

  
“Whoa boy,” Oliver sighed, pulling back on Flash’s reins, guiding him in gentle semi circles  
He growled low under his voice as his hands wrung over the reins, annoyed with himself more than anything else.

He had never known Felicity as anything but genuinely kind, her question about his parents seemed like it had come from the same place, only that left him with more questions than answers.

He muttered his annoyance before double backing and heading towards where he’d abruptly left Felicity.

She had barely moved a few feet when get made it back, she had on the hurt puppy face he had never forgotten about, the same face she would adopt as a child when he had made plans after school that didn’t involve her. It had frustrated him no end back then, but seeing it on her know made him smile for just a moment.

“Did you even read them?” he asked bluntly, walking Flash on the spot.  
She blinked up, confused, her perfectly groomed brows arching simultaneously inwards and upwards, her painted lips parted slightly open, looking for words.

“The letters, Felicity, they weren’t much, but you could have read them.”  
“Oliver,” she breathed softly through his name, “I never got any letters from you, I wrote you,” she blinked down, embarrassed, “a lot, but I never got anything back.”

Flash kicked his hoof into the soft ground as Oliver steadied him.  
“I guess that makes two of us then,” he sighed apologetically.  
She didn’t receive his correspondence, she didn’t know – she hadn’t known.

* * *

  
“Where are they?” Felicity snapped flinging the front door open.  
Her mother appeared from around the corner, securing a fallen pin in her hair.  
“What on earth happened to you?” Donna asked, her eyes trailing across Felicity’s disheveled appearance.

Felicity shook off her mother’s concern and batted away her approaching hand, which was attempting to fix Felicity’s hair.

“Where are they? Where are the letters he sent?” Felicity growled, pursing her normally soft lips.  
“I’m not sure I know what..” Donna started to reply.  
“Donna, give your daughter what she’s asking for,” a deep voice spoke from the adjoining room.

Donna’s face turned to a pained expression of a person who knew they had done something wrong.  
“Your Aunt said sending them would only hurt you, so,” Donna sighed, opening a beautifully carved glory box that had been a wedding gift tradition for generations past.  
“So I never gave you these,” her beautifully painted eyes blinked shut as she handed Felicity a bundle of envelopes, bound with twine.

Felicity’s chest heaved with the mixed emotions she was having. She bit her tongue fearing the words she wanted to say would get her marched right back to a train New York bound.

She huffed her displeasure and, clutching the letters to her chest, she ran upstairs and straight into her old bedroom that time had not altered.


	3. Letters and Stations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because blackmail is a two-way street....dedicated to Muriel (aka EnterSillyUserName, go read Your Future is My Past)

Felicity stared at the unbound pile of envelopes, she counted seven. It didn’t seem like much, but she knew Oliver back then, one letter would have been more than she expected. He had written her seven times. Conversely, she had written him probably the same amount over the span of two months.

She smiled remembering the silly things she would write to him about, just to have an excuse to send him another letter. She cringed slightly at the memory of the letter she had penned when she turned 13, perhaps it had been a blessing he had not received that particular one.

Her fingertips danced across the envelopes, the paper now a little browned with age, wondering what each one held and whether she actually wanted to know.

She picked up the first in the pile, she had to know.

_December 1916_

_Mam is making me write you, she says you ain’t coming back for Christmas, so you ought have some home with you there._

_I don’t pretend to understand what she means, but she reckoned a letter might see you well. I suppose you ought know that Saturday chores ain’t the same without you._

_Mam says I ought thank you for the gift, so thanks. I ain’t wear it yet cause Laurel says necklaces are for girls, but don’t be fretting none, I like it all the same._

_~Oliver_

Felicity grimaced over the mention of Laurel and made a mental note to find out whether she was still in Starling.

She took the next one in her hands, wondering how long it had taken him to write again or whether he had been upset she had not returned his letter.

_February 1917_

_Mam says I should send you a birthday card. I reckon saying happy birthday here is enough. Tommy says I ought to buy you something. I don’t much know what 10 year old girls like, but I hope this is okay, it ain’t fancy, but I reckon you told me once it was your favourite colour._

_Happy birthday._

_~Oliver_

Felicity tipped the envelope up into her hand, with a slight shake a small hairpin tumbled out, it was decidedly delicate with a small blue and yellow silk forget-me-not flower on the tip. She couldn’t help but smile as she imagined 13 year old Oliver picking out such an outwardly feminine hairpin, she was certain that her 10 year old self would have gladly given up every expensive present she had received that year to just get this one.

She swiped away a tear that trailed down her face. She had been so terribly homesick that day, so devastated that she wasn’t allowed to return to Starling. She had begged her father relentlessly on their visit and he had almost caved, but Aunt Matilda had forbade it without clemency. Felicity had cried for hours that night – not for the first time and it wouldn’t be the last time either. She imagined if she had been afforded this small trinket from home the tears would have been much less, that night at least.

_May 1917_

_Pa headed off today, he enlisted in the army and they sent him straight off. I hear the adults round here talking up storms, and they reckon it won’t be long till they return. Tommy’s father shipped out in the same regiment, so we got to wave them off at the train._

_Mam says I ought not tell you this sort of thing, so best you not tell your folks I said anything._  
_I told Laurel about the biscuits you always had, reckon she felt bad cause she came next day with some, they tasted like boots. Don’t be telling anyone I said that neither._

_Maybe you could write back, it ain’t been the same round here without you annoying me._

_~Oliver_

Felicity held the letter in her hands for minutes after reading it. She remembered the atmosphere in New York when the boat of fathers and sons had pulled away from the docks on a crisp Saturday morning. Felicity knew none of the men feverishly waving from the deck but Aunt Matilda had insisted they wave tiny flags and wish them all safe journeys. Felicity’s throat tightened wondering if Robert Queen had been on that ship.

She thought back to his stiffened back and his dark eyes when she mentioned his family, a part of her knew what was coming. She wanted to postpone it, avoid the next letters, but she knew – even as a tender 17 year old, that ignoring something wouldn’t make it go away.

_November 1917_

_Mam says I need to write you again. I told her it weren’t important cause you don’t write back. She says manners don’t rely on what other folks do, only what we do._

_No one talks much round here, Pa is still out fighting, reckon he will have some stories when he gets back. Mam won’t listen to the broadcasts, it makes her cry. I wish I could make her happy again. Your folks are mighty generous letting us stay on, but I know mam worries about it all. I’m working Pa’s old jobs but it ain’t the same._

_Maybe you could write Mam, I reckon she would right like to hear about New York._

_~Oliver_  
  
Felicity’s heart ached, she remembered vividly waiting by the mailbox for something to come from Oliver, but she at least lived under the cloud of knowledge that he wasn’t much of a talker, let alone writer, and she had made her peace with that many years before without resentment, but just as she knew Oliver wasn’t much of a writer, she knew that he would have known she was. She had always used every opportunity possible during their time together to talk – he had said on more than one occasion that he couldn’t keep up with how many words came hurtling from her mouth.

Felicity didn’t imagine he ever wore it openly, but her perceived silence must have hurt him.

_May 1918_

_Mam says I ought write you about good things, but I ain’t got no good things to write ‘bout._

_They say I ought not tell you the bad things, but the bad things are real and I reckon we all need to know about the real things._

_Tommy’s dad came home last week. He’s pretty poorly, Tommy say’s he don’t talk much about it, but he ain’t never going to walk proper again. He has a crutch he uses to get around and he looks so much older, like the war took something more from him than just the use of his leg._

_I know folk say it’s foolish to make wishes on your birthday, but I reckoned no harm would come of it, so when Mister Merlyn came home I wished like I ain’t never wished before that Pa would come home safe. I guess folks are right, it was foolish._

_Mam got a letter delivered today by two men in uniform. I saw them while I tended to the horses in the stable. I saw mam open the letter and fall down and there weren’t nothing I could do about it. The letter said Pa died 20 May 1918._

_There ain’t no body to bury, but your Pap is seeing to it he has a tombstone in the rolling hills overlooking the Ranch. I reckon he’d like that._

_Your mam is heading out to see you in the morning so I hope this letter finds you and maybe you could come back with her to visit. It ain’t much of a good reason, but I reckon you could put a smile on Mam’s face cause I can’t seem to._

_~Oliver_

_PS Sorry I didn’t write for your birthday, weren’t much I had to say. I got the book you sent me, I ain’t much of a reader, but I like it all the same._

Felicity set the letter down on her lap and cried till her eyes hurt and she couldn’t catch her breath. She remembered her mother’s trip that May. She had asked why her father hadn’t come. No one would give her a real answer, only to say that he had things to attend to back home.

She had only been a child, 11 and a few months, but they should have told her. Oliver had only just turned 15 and he had no choice but to deal with it.

She had sent him the book, A Narrative of the Life of David Crockett which she had found in an old bookstore not far from school. It had reminded her of him in the most innocent of ways. Fearing it wouldn’t make it back to Starling before his birthday she has written a short note in the front cover;

  
_To Oliver,_  
_Happy birthday._  
_~Felicity_  
  
She had taken it straight from the bookstore to the post office that very afternoon, unlike all her other letters which she had given to Aunt Matilda to post. She had run home afterwards and written a far more extensive letter to Oliver, telling him about school, her dislike of Aunt Matilda’s cats and why she had sent him that particular book in great detail and promising that she would come back and read it to him one day soon.

She assumed, rightly, that Oliver never received that letter; or any other. He had simply received a book with the simplest of inscriptions. It was not hard for her to imagine how that must have looked to him.

Felicity starred down at the two remaining letters, wondering when he had written them and whether she wanted to know the hurt that they must have contained. She swallowed down her sadness and slowly pealed the envelope open.

_December 1918_

_The war is over now and many folk are saying that the sacrifice made was worth it. I don’t pretend to understand how. It don’t seem like it’s worth it to me. So many broken people returning and so many others than ain’t never coming back._

_There are three more crosses next to Pa’s now. Mister Fenwick, the old horse trainer, his boys never returned. Folk say he couldn’t come back from losing them, he ain’t got not wife so he had no family left. They say he died of a broken heart, but truth be he stood himself in front of a train. I ain’t suppose to tell you that but there ain’t any folk around here willing to talk about it and that don’t seem right to me._

_Mam moved into town, folks said it wasn’t proper that she stay on at the Ranch without a man._

_I finished up school earlier and took a job with your Pap. He says Pa taught me all I needed to know, so I ain’t got to start apprentice wages. It ain’t paying much, but with the money Mam receives from the army, it’s enough to pay her lodging. I sleep there sometimes, but I prefer to lay in the old barn, it’s quiet down there. Laurel says it ain’t fit for lodging, but I like it all the same._

_Maybe you could write Mam or maybe visit with Thea, I worry Mam might die of a broken heart too and maybe some good news might cheer her up._

_~Oliver_

Felicity closed her eyes, hugging the crumpled paper to her chest, had she known then what she knew now she would have written Mrs Queen a mailbag full of letters and she would have returned home to see to it that Oliver’s barn lodging at least had a bed.

But she had known none of that, her parents had shielded her from many of the harsh realities in life – probably thinking that they were doing her a service by doing so – but it came at the cost of a dear friend who just needed someone to talk to.

Felicity grazed her fingers along the seam of the last envelope. Her hands grew shaky and her heart grew heavy.

_February 1920_

_I don’t know why I’m writing you this, mam never told me I should and don’t see why any news from home would matter to you much anymore._

_I ain’t mad about it. I’m happy that you’re out enjoying the world. They say 13 is a big year so I reckon I ought to wish you a happy birthday, but I probably won’t write again after. Laurel say’s it ain’t right that I write to you at all, she says you’re a child and you don’t understand life like we do. Maybe she’s right, but if you tell me you want me to keep writing you, I will, otherwise I hope New York is treating you like the lady you want to be._

_Mam is remarried now, he’s good folk, his name is Walter and he owns a leather shop in town. It’s good for mam and Thea, and it means I can save some of my wages now, I’m paying your Pap for Flash so I can keep him as my own, a few more years and I’ll have enough to leave, reckon I’ll head down to California and see where that takes me. Laurel says it’s a stupid idea, says I ought to stay in town and take a wife, live a proper life – whatever that means. Anyway, it ain’t for her to decide._

_I reckoned it was about time to wear the necklace you gave me. So it seems fair I offer you the same trinket back – for when you’re a lady._

_Rest easy in your life Felicity, I hope it treats you well and maybe one day we’ll cross paths._

_O. Queen_

Wrapped in cream coloured tissue paper was a dainty silver chain with a small horseshoe pendant. Felicity hung the chain from her fingers, tracing across the delicately engraved details on the pendant.

Felicity had noticed the sign off of his name, far more cordial than the ones that came before. He was 16 when he wrote that letter, but it carried the tone of someone much older – someone who had been forced into an adult world well before he deserved to be. The loss of his father, the requirement that he support his mother and the harshness of the realities of the world had aged him and Felicity had been unaware of it all.

Carefully she wrapped the necklace back up in the tissue paper – as much as she wanted to wear it, he had sent it years ago and she felt in her heart she needed to see him now to understand the time that had passed between that last letter in February 1920 and now, four years on.

Gently she placed the small package into her jewellery box and placed the letters into her top drawer. They were hers now and she would keep them safe.

* * *

  
Felicity found her mother pacing the mantle of the unlit fireplace in the sitting room, she blinked up when she saw Felicity, he eyes stained red and puffy – she had been crying. Felicity’s father was sitting at his desk, silently looking over papers laid out in front of him.

“Felicity honey, I’m-“ Donna started, taking a few eager steps forward.  
Felicity shook her head softly.  
“You should have told me, I should have known,” she sniffed, tucking loose hair behind her pierced ear, a dainty pearl earring hanging from the lobe.  
“You were a child, war wasn’t something that should be able to touch your life,” Donna pleaded, her tone suggesting she honestly believed the same

“He was a child too mother and he was my friend. You should have told me, you should have given me his letters, you should have let me come home. I should have grieved with him,” Felicity’s voice raised as she walked into the room, her hands slapping down on the back of the rocking chair.

“Your Aunt suggested-“ Donna started, her hands reaching for Felicity’s arm.  
Felicity jerked her arm away.  
“I don’t care what Aunt Matilda suggested, I’m _your_ daughter, _you_ should have told me,” her voice raised again, her lips pinched inwards as her blue eyes searched for something redeemable in her mother’s actions.

“And you,” Felicity sighed, turning her attention towards her father, “was this not worth your time to fight her on her decisions?” she snipped, a hand laid on the desk beside him.  
“Did you think I didn’t deserve to know this either?” Felicity continued, slapping a palm down on the desk.  
Noah didn’t flinch, but he did raise his eyes, and sighed deeply through his chest. His daughter had every right to be angry and he was going to let her express it without restraint.

“It wasn’t your father’s idea, it was mine,” Donna pleaded, a dainty hand smoothing down the sleeves of her tailored blue dress.

Felicity leaned down, her eyes level with her father’s.  
“But still you did nothing,” she exhaled a sigh of sadness, “one day maybe I’ll be worthy of any kind of action from you,” she breathed before pushing the papers to the floor.

“Where are my letters, the ones I sent?” Felicity asked as she walked towards the door.  
“Your Aunt never kept them, she burned them all,” Donna sad sadly, her chin dropping to her chest in shame.

Felicity’s eyes said everything she felt, the betrayal from her parents was coursing through her irises and etched into her furrowed brow.

She turned and stepped out of the door onto the porch, slamming the door behind her. Her heart lurched forward and suddenly she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She stumbled down the stairs, dropping to her knees on the second to last one as she desperately tried to catch her breath. She clawed at the neckline of her ruined dress, the chiffon almost tearing as she did.

“Are you alright miss?” a kind, slightly familiar voice asked, as feet shuffled in the gravel in front of her.  
She looked up to meet the smiling face of the gentleman who had met her at the train station. The one who had, reluctantly, given her his horse.  
“I’m fine, thank you. You work here?” Felicity asked, her breath slowly evening out.  
“I do miss, maintenance, driver, caretaker, whatever you need me to be. The name’s John, John Diggle,” he smiled, the kind of caring smile that instantly made Felicity’s anxiety ease. He was young, but at a guess, near on 10 years her senior.

Felicity stood from her stooped position on the step and brushed her tattered dress idly downward.  
“Do you know where I could find Oliver, Oliver Queen?” she asked timidly, showing her youthful innocence.  
“This time of the day, probably down the bottom fields miss, I can give you a ride down there if you like?” he asked, nodding towards his stallion, still saddled from previously.

“No, I can walk, thank you Mister John,” she smiled.  
“My friends call me Diggle, I reckon you can probably do the same if you see fit,” he extended his hand towards her.

She took it and smiled genuinely.  
“Thank you for lending your horse Mister Diggle,” she replied, before heading off down towards the far paddocks.

She unpinned her hair as she walked, carelessly discarding each hairclip to the ground as she took them out. Her soft curls finally fell free, dancing down her back and swaying slightly in the delicate breeze that waved over her. She tousled her fingers through the length as she caught sight of men in the distance.

Felicity held herself back from running up to him, reminding herself to slow her footing, less she look like a complete nutter. She patted her cheeks, aware the tears that had been careening from her eyes earlier had no doubt left their mark. In that moment – her hair a tumble of untamed curls, her dresses dirtied and torn and her face blotchy and red – she wished she had spent a few more minutes inside the house to change and freshen up her make up.

She toyed with the idea of turning around and retreating to do just that right up until the moment Oliver turned around – it was too late, he had spotted her.

Felicity watched as him turn back to the other men who seemed to be listening and taking directions from him. She studied his frame, he was much taller than her now, his shoulders were broad and even at a distance she could see the shape he cut. Her mouth dried a little as she watched him, it was almost frightful that even after all these years her childhood crush had remained virtually untainted.

She stopped a few feet from him, waiting politely for him to finish his instructions to the other men. She wrung her slender hands over each other, unsure of what words to say first – or at all.

He nodded to the others who then broke away from the circle they had created. Oliver took a few steps towards Felicity, wiping the back of his hand idly across his damp brow.

Felicity searched for words – any words – to say, but she found nothing. Instead, without any forethought she sprung forward and wrapped her arms around him, one arm around his waist, the other over his shoulder, her face pushing into his chest.

She felt his hand steady against the small of her back, held for only a few moments before he gently smoothed them across her shoulders and took a step backwards, breaking apart the embrace. Nervously he looked around, scowling at one of the men who had stopped work to watch the exchange.

“What are you doing Felicity?” Oliver huffed under his breath, moving her a few more steps away from hearing distance.  
“I, I’m sorry, about your pa, about your mam, about everything Oliver, I didn’t know,” she could feel herself welling up again, as if the news was all brand new – which to her, it was.

Oliver rolled his lips, a hand still lazily touching against her shoulder.  
“That was years ago Felicity, nothing to it no more. No reason for you to be sorry,” he shrugged dismissively.  
“I know, but I never got them, mama kept them all, so I’ve read them now, I just wish-“  
Oliver sighed, loud enough to interrupt Felicity’s line of thinking.

“It makes no difference now Felicity, it’s all the past. We were children then, you still are in the scheme of things, but I ain’t and you shouldn’t be throwing your arms around me like we’re an item, we ain’t. There are stations in life and you and your folks are about three above me, so you ought best keep that in mind.”

Felicity frowned at him, a confused look skimming across her face. Since when had Oliver cared about society’s levels and rules?  
“But we’re friends Oliver, friends embrace other friends they haven’t seen in years,” Felicity replied, the naivety of her youth showing through once again.

Oliver stepped back, tipping his hat cordially at her.  
“We ain’t friends Miss, your father pays my wages, there rightly ain’t any more to it.”  
He smiled slightly before turning and walking away leaving Felicity feeling embittered and cold with her hands rubbing down the sides of her arms.

He _had_ changed, much more than she had imagined.

Oliver felt bad as he tried not to turn around to steal another look at her. He had meant what he said, for the most part, their lives were full of levels and rules and stations in life. All of those things meant they couldn’t step back into the childlike relationship they had once had.

Even if they could, Felicity Smoak no longer looked like the nonsensical girl over 3 years his junior, with her wide-eyed stare and her effervescent smile. She wasn’t the little girl who brought him cookies and fed the chickens with him. She wasn’t the little girl that spoke like she was trying to be at least 5 years older and nor was she the little girl who would wrap her arms around his waist and ride down to the lake with him.

It was abundantly clear to anyone with the gift of sight, that Felicity Smoak was no longer any of those things.

Oliver had seen it the moment he’d laid eyes on the effortlessly beautiful girl who he had thought was a stranger. He had allowed his eyes to linger across her leg, allowed his mind a moment of time to imagine his hand sliding up it. As her body lay pinned under his he had felt her warmth and her softness and he had imagined her beneath him naked. Without reservation he had been attracted to the stunning blonde before he had realised who she was.

Only, even now that he knew who she was, some of those thoughts remained and they were plaguing his mind, taking him down paths he shouldn’t travel, paths that would only lead to trouble.


	4. Forget-Me-Not

Felicity stared up at the ceiling in her room that seemed so much smaller now than it had years before. Porcelain dolls sat neatly on intricately carved furniture. The white cast iron bed frame still squeaked just a little if she rocked it.

The wooden floorboards still showed the scuff marks where she would drag the large wooden toy chest across the floor and push it against the door to stop her mother from coming in uninvited. An old hairbrush was still laid out next to a matching hand mirror on her vanity, the place where she had sat and imagined how she would wear her hair when she was older.

Felicity rolled onto her side and curled herself into a ball, she had imagined coming back to this room for years, but now that she was here everything seemed so foreign. This was not her room anymore, not her bed, not her dolls, not her hairbrush and not her Oliver.

For years in New York she had imagined him here, he never changed much in her mind. He was still young and happy, he still rolled his ‘R’s slightly when he spoke and he was still her friend – sometimes she allowed herself to imagine that maybe he could be more – but none of that was true and she hated herself in that moment for being foolish enough to think it would be.

She almost managed a little smile thinking about what her friends from school would be saying if they could see her now. She had missed Starling greatly, but New York had been a second home. She had friends she’d waved goodbye to and promised they could visit. She had favourite places to go and beautiful memories to think back on.

But she had left New York behind, eager to come back to a place that had been frozen in time in her mind, only now she was floundering – neither belonging here or there.

Macie Haywood would have been the first to speak up – she hailed from a little place much like Starling, only she flourished in New York, different suitors every weekend, always primping and fussing with Felicity’s hair, telling her she should be out, having fun and enjoying their misspent youth so that when they’re old and tired they can look back and know they had lived.

Felicity knew what Macie would say, she would park herself at the end of tiny double bed, smoothing brightly painted nails across the yellow quilted blanket and she’d say  
_“Felicity, if you want the boy to notice you, then you need to make yourself noticeable.”_

Maybe it was time for Felicity to listen to Macie’s advice.

* * *

 

The sun was just beginning to set for the day when Oliver started his ride towards the old wash tub set amongst the pines in the far western shore of the lake. It had been there for decades, as far back as he could remember. He had kept it a secret from any new employs on the Ranch in case they decided they might like to use it themselves.

In sweltering days like today had been he would haul a few buckets of water up from the lake and just sit in the sun-tempered water and breathe in the quiet country air. In winter, or if he was feeling particularly bothered by the day, he would light a fire underneath it and warm his aching body.

Nothing bothered him there – probably because the people who had known about it had all, in one way or another, moved on. Oliver had decided when he left in a few months’ time that he would bestow on the next in charge the location of this hidden gem, but for now it was his alone to enjoy.

He started his trail into the pines, leaving Flash his second apple for the day to enjoy at the lake’s shoreline. He stepped over tree debris and under the curtain of low hanging branches that hid the clearing from all directions.

He heard it before he saw it, the gentle sounds of water lapping up against the side of the copper tub. One more step forward and he peered through the last veil of tree branches, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw her – well parts of her at least.

Felicity lay with her back to the trees Oliver was somewhat hiding behind, her hair cascading down the end of the tub with her head propped up on rolled towel she lay under her neck.

Her silken smooth legs floated out the water just above her knees, crossed at the ankles as she rested them on the lower end of the tub. She held a book just above the lapping water sparsely decorated with remnants of bubbles from the soap she had placed in there. Idly a leg came down from its perch and splashed lightly in the water, making the sound Oliver had heard.

“Are you spying on me?” she asked, hearing a stick crack under his foot.  
She didn’t move an inch, unafraid of the visitor because she was certain she knew who it was.

Oliver mused over his response, of course Felicity knew about this place – she knew almost every secret location this land had to offer, same as he did.

“I certainly don’t reckon I’m spying on you Miss,” Oliver replied, stepping out into the clearing.  
“Good, because that wouldn’t be right, now would it?” she turned her head back towards him, folding her finger into the page of her book as tiny sections of hair tumbled forward into the water, its level just below her collarbone.

“I don’t suppose it would be Miss,” Oliver smiled, kicking his boots through the undergrowth as he walked up the clearing a little more so she didn’t have to crane her neck to see him.

“Why do you call me Miss, Oliver? We’ve known each other since we were children,” she smiled through her words, lightly sucking in her bottom lip as she blinked up at him.  
“I reckon we knew each other _when_ we were kid folk miss, not really since,” he smirked before bowing his head and taking a small step forwards.

He couldn’t see much of her, most of her body hidden, submerged in the milky water with patches of bubbles, but he could see enough of her to make him feel the need to blink away and remind himself repetitively that he should not be entertaining thoughts of her, like he was.

“I see you haven’t lost your sense of humour Oliver, I’m glad for it,” Felicity spoke, leaving her lips parted after her final word as she lay the book down on the small wooden table beside the tub.

“But you didn’t answer my question, why do you call me Miss? I wasn’t a Miss when we were children and you said yourself that in the _scheme of things,_ ” she pouted, mocking his deeper voice, “that I probably still am a child, so why the Miss title now?”

She ran her fingers idly through her hair, spilling more of it into the water around her shoulders as she waited for his answer.  
“I reckon your father would insist on it Miss,” Oliver replied, deciding to take a seat on the ground in front of him, slightly uphill from where she was.  
“Is my father here right now?” Felicity asked sarcastically, moving her body so her arms were folded over the side of the tub, her head now directly facing the side of Oliver a few feet away.

“I don’t reckon so. If he were, he’d rightly be wonderin’ why you’re down here, in this old tub when he built you a nice respectable one with four walls,” Oliver jested, pushing a stick through the ground in front of him.

“Do you want me to leave?” Felicity asked bluntly, her chin resting on lip of the tub as she watched Oliver’s response intently.  
“This land belongs to your family, as does that there tub, I reckon it’s for you to decide what you want to do Felicity.”

She smiled softly to herself – he hadn’t said _miss_.  
“I wrote you a lot Oliver, for whatever it’s worth now I never forgot about this place and I didn’t know the things you wrote me about,” she blinked away a solitary tear, “if I had, I would have seen to it to be here, you believe that don’t you?”

Oliver nodded slowly, the Felicity he had known had always been generous with her kindness, the Felicity he had known had spent weeks tending to a sick bird that most would have let be and chalk its death up to the ways of nature, but not her. Perhaps she had not changed as much as he had assumed.

“Like I said, it don’t much matter, that was years ago,” he shrugged, looking only briefly at her before returning his gaze to the ground.  
Felicity wanted to tell him that it did matter, he lost his father and that isn’t something that the passage of time can miraculously change, she wanted to say those things, but she bit her tongue for now not wanting him to clam up at her pressure to admit he was still hurting from it.

“Is your mam still in town?” Felicity asked, realising she knew very little about his life now.  
“Aye, she’s happy in her life,” Oliver caught his gaze before it lingered on Felicity longer than he thought it should.  
“And Thea?” Felicity asked, somewhat glad to see Oliver still only spoke just enough to answer the question asked.  
“Eleven now, spoilt I reckon,” he laughed kindly.  
“And you?” Felicity paused, trying to ask the question that sat on the tip of her tongue.  
“What about me?” Oliver smiled, spreading his arms.  
“What keeps you here? A white fence and a missus to cook your supper?” she blushed at her question and prayed he wouldn’t notice.

Oliver let his head drop backwards as he let out a hushed laugh.  
“Ain’t nothing like that,” he smiled into blank space.  
“So ladies are still trouble Oliver?” Felicity asked, slipping her body back into the lightly heated water, sending a wave of the tepid water spilling over the edgel  
“The worst kind,” he winked.  
Felicity noted the small glimmer of the light-hearted Oliver she once knew.

“Will you be heading back to New York?” Oliver asked, slipping his hat from his head and balancing it between his palms.  
“I’d rather see what there is for me here,” Felicity replied, closing her eyes softly, her dark lashing striking against her pale complexion.

Oliver took a moment to look across at her, she still sounded every bit like the little girl who had a well thought out reply for everything but as he stole a look at her, her eyes softly shut, she looked remarkably different.

It was then Oliver realised how little he knew of the 7 plus years she had spent away, how it must have been for her to not return to the only pace she knew as home, to have been taken away from all she knew without a choice in the matter. She had been a victim of circumstance and other people’s decisions – just the same as he had.

He suddenly felt a wave of guilt over the way he had reacted to her. He had been unkind – and although there was merit and truth in what he said – he could tell the instant he pushed her away he had hurt her greatly.

Before he realised that his mouth was open and he was speaking, he had already spoken all the words  
“I could take you into town sometime if you like, show you around again.”

Felicity rolled her head towards him, her gaze catching his.  
“Could you take me tomorrow? The distraction would be nice,” she smiled brightly, the joy in her smile shining off every part of her face.

Oliver dipped his head into a nod, her smile refreshing and almost contagious.  
“I have a few things that need seeing to in the morning, but after noon I can take you.”

“Thank you,” her lips folded into a genuine smile, “I’ll be glad for it.”  
She glided slowly through the water, taking the tip of a towel between her fingers  
“I best leave you to it then, you have a lot of dirt to be scrubbing off,” she laughed softly.

Oliver chuckled as he stood and patted a few scattered leaves from his pants.  
“I reckon so,” he replied.

Felicity blinked at him in silence for a few moments, expecting an action on his part that never came.  
“Oliver..” she smiled.  
“Yes Miss Felicity?” he replied, slipping the suspenders down his arms.  
“I’m in a bath,” she spoke coyly.  
“I reckon I noticed that,” Oliver laughed, toeing off his shoes as he looked across at her.  
“So I’m not wearing any clothes.”  
He still didn’t seem to get what she was trying to say.  
“That would generally be the point,” he shrugged, stripping off his socks.

She blushed as her head shook softly.  
“I’m going to need you to turn around if you want me to get out,” she smiled, her head gently cocked to the side, her tongue skating across her bottom lip, “I’m pretty sure my father would insist on it.”

Oliver, finally understanding, sheepishly turned away planting his bare feet into the ground, his back now toward her.

Felicity waited a few moments, watching as his broad shoulders curved inward, stretching the fabric of his shirt across his back causing her to idly suck in her bottom lip at the thought of how he might look without the shirt.

She rose from the water, the change in the temperature of the air causing goose bumps to instantly appear across her ivory skin. She found there was something surprisingly erotic about standing completely naked behind him, water drops trailing down the curves of her body. A part of her wanted him to steal a gaze over his shoulder so she could see the reaction in his eyes, but he stayed, firmly planted with his back to her and his head dipped low.

Felicity stepped from the tub and wrapped the soft white towel around her body, folding it securely under her arm.  
“Alright, you can turn around now,” she spoke softly, as she pulled her long locks over one shoulder, splaying out the wet ends out against the towel.

Oliver glanced over his shoulder first, ensuring that she wasn’t lying about her modesty, before he turned around. He swallowed down the forming lump in his throat as his eyes zeroed in on a single water droplet that started at the curve of her shoulder and trailed a painfully slow descent down her arm.

Felicity slipped her feet into her shoes and stepped off the wooden slatted step next to the tub.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” she asked, taking a few fluid steps forward, the height difference between them now becoming obvious as she tilted her head upwards to catch his eyes.  
“Aye, tomorrow,” he spoke through an exhale.

Felicity took another step forward, her body just a few inches from his. She hadn’t noticed it before, but she could hide behind his stature and she would completely disappear from view.

She could feel the palpitations of her heart as she reached a hand out towards him in trepidation of another rejection of it. None came as she laid her palm flat against the front of his shoulder, her fingers curving slightly with the round of it.  
“Thank you Oliver,” she smiled nervously as her eyes scuttled between the ground and his face, “and I’m truly sorry about your Pa, he was a good, kind man,” she spoke softly, a fraction above a whisper as she leant in placed a delicate kiss against his cheek.

He didn’t move an inch as she backed away, simply bowing his head in recognition of her words.

She smiled as she gathered her clothes into her arms as padded away, willing herself not to steal a look behind her at him.  
“Felicity,” Oliver called as she reached the far boundary of the clearing heading back towards the house.  
“Mmmm?” she breathed, twisting her body to look at him.

There were words he wanted to say, seven years full of words he wanted to say. Things he wanted to ask her, things he felt she should know – but the words stayed locked on the tip of his tongue, refusing to go any further.  
“Rest easy tonight,” was all that came out.

Felicity curved her peached lips into a soft smile and bobbed her head slightly before turning away and disappearing into a thicket of pine trees.

* * *

  
Oliver lay awake on the small cot in the loft of the old barn where he had chosen to make his home. He had a perfectly acceptable room for lodging at his mother and Walter’s modest house on the outskirts of town about a 20 minute ride away, but he had always enjoyed the quiet solitude of this place more.

He didn’t need much, a small cot to lay on, a deep green woollen blanket to keep him warm when the cloudless night sent the temperature dropping, a pillow to rest his head on, a small set of drawers that housed his clothes and a metal trunk where he kept mementos of his years spent on this earth. It wasn’t much, but everything in that slightly dented trunk meant something to him.

His fingers laced through the silver chain around his neck, toying with the pendant. It was an action that he did frequently and without even thinking about, but tonight as he listened to the soft noises of nature surrounding him including the distant howl of a wolf, the action took on more significance.

Felicity had held a special place in his heart over the years. She had remained the sweet little girl who encapsulated everything that had been good in his life. He had thought of her often, especially in times when the fire bell had rung out, protectively looking for her across the shore of the lake. He would catch himself before his panic set in – there was no need to look for her.

Seeing her again had taken the air from his lungs instantly, like a horse’s kick to the gut, she was no longer that little girl and while hearing her speak and letting her name fall from his lips reminded him of the innocence of their youthful friendship – it also reminded him of just how much he had lost from that point on and just how easily the currents of life could change. Seeing the blueness of her eyes was both a blessing and a curse.

* * *

  
It was near on noon when Oliver finished up shoeing the last stallion and lead it purposefully back to the stall. For the last hour he had been trying to come up with an excuse to cancel the jaunt into town with Felicity. After she had occupied his mind most of the night he had decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to accompany her anywhere.

He had reprimanded himself repeatedly for staying in the clearing with her last evening, allowing her to settle in so close to him that he could smell the delicate scent of her skin. He valued greatly the kindness her father had shown him over the years and it felt to him like a betrayal to even entertain a single impure thought about the man’s daughter.

Oliver had settled on an excuse that seemed a valid enough one – he would tell her there was an old fence that needed fixing up before the cattle rode over the top of it. Work like that would take him all afternoon so she should head into town without him, he’d meet up with her later if he could.

He was rattling the excuse around in his head when he emerged from the stables and caught sight of her, sitting atop the same fence post she did when she was a child, dressed in a white linen and lace dress with a hem that skimmed just below her knees and a beautifully bright yellow sash tied tightly around her slender waist. Her hair was pulled back, secured into a plait that sat gracefully over one shoulder, small wisps of hair falling around her hairline.

Felicity smiled when she saw him, just a hint of rouge on her pouted lips.

Oliver walked up to her, cleaning his mucky hands on a rag he carried slung over his shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak but before any words left his lips she held out her hands to him, a small bundled terrycloth caught between them.

“I’m hoping they’re still your favourites,” she smiled, nodding down at her open palms.  
Oliver exhaled softly as he took the bundle from her hands, he didn’t need to unwrap it to know what it was as the delectable aroma gave it away. She had brought him oat and raisin biscuits.

“I’m sorry about the getup, I know I’m a little overdressed,” she smiled as he extended his hand to her to steady her off the fence post, “the clothes I had here don’t rightly fit me anymore,” she blinked, smoothing down the waist of her dress.

“I’m stuck wearing the clothes Aunt Matilda packed for me, even if they aren’t fitting for the circumstance,” she nodded shyly, nervously skimming a hand across her neck and down her collarbone.

Oliver hadn’t said a word since he had walked from the stables and his lack of anything vocal was starting to make Felicity anxious.  
“I can go change if you think I ought to, maybe there’s something a little less flashy in there,” she twisted her head back towards the direction of her house, absently showing Oliver the small hairpin she had set into the top of the plait. The delicate one with the blue and yellow silk forget-me-not, the same one he had bought her years before.

“No, you’re fine, you look nice,” Oliver finally spoke, nervously scratching at his scruff just below his right ear.  
“You’re just looking at me kind of funny, I don’t want you to be embarrassed by me,” she spoke softly, the midday sun reflecting the striking beauty of her eyes perfectly.

Oliver cleared his throat and switched the terrycloth bundled-biscuits between his hands.  
“I can’t take you into town, something’s come up,” Oliver said hurriedly, his eyes settled on a patch of dirt at her feet.

“Oh,” Felicity replied quietly, her eyes pulling inwards slightly as her chest dropped.  
“But you should go, you’re all dressed up, I’m sure John would take you,” Oliver managed a smile as he saw the disappointment she was trying to hide.  
“I suppose he would, but I-“ she stopped herself, folding her lips inward, “never mind, it’s okay, I understand, there’s more important things you need to be doing than accompanying me,” she smiled softly, desperately trying to hold the tear back that was forming in the corner of her eye.

She had spent all morning readying herself for their trip into town, pinning her hopes on the thought that venturing out there might give her a feeling of belonging and a sense that maybe this place wasn’t so foreign to her after all. She had spent hours rummaging through the trunks of clothes she had travelled back with looking for something that wasn’t outlandishly New York so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself – knowing that Oliver would hate that.

Lastly, she had engaged in a debate with herself about whether or not to wear the small hairpin Oliver had bought her for her tenth birthday, worried that wearing it may make him recall hurtful memories but that shutting it away in a drawer might never show how much the gesture meant to her.

“I’ll just get out of your way, I hope you like the biscuits,” she spoke softly as she backed away, cursing internally as the single tear escaped from her eye and ran a path down her cheek.

Oliver hated himself at that moment, nothing that had come before this moment had been her fault. She wasn’t to blame that the sight of her flushed out painful memories for him and she wasn’t accountable for the sparks that he felt when he saw her grown.

“Maybe I can finish up quicker than I thought and meet you up,” he sighed, almost crushing the biscuits in his hands as he clenched them in guilt at lying to her.  
“Its fine Oliver, I don’t mean to be any trouble for you. I’ll be seeing you,” she smiled, pulling her chin upward and refusing her body’s request to crumple into itself.

She walked away, her head raised so as to not give him any indication just how wretched that whole exchange had made her feel. She knew he was lying, knew there was no other job that needed doing, she could see it in his face.

It couldn’t be any clearer unless the literal words _we ain’t friends_ were inscribed on his forehead. He wanted no part of her.

 


	5. White Horse

Felicity stood poised against the thick trunk of the old oak tree by the house. She exhaled softly, her arms wrapped around her waist, as she glanced over her shoulder up towards her bedroom window, the memory of her climbing from it all those years ago still so vivid in her mind.

She recounted the way he had promised she could trust him as he guided her down from the roof. What she wouldn’t give for just a few moments of that time back again, the careless, uncomplicated nature of youth.

The midday breeze swept over her shoulders, sending wisps of hair across her face. Life was complicated now, more so than she cared to think on.

“Miss, the car is ready,” John smiled, stirring Felicity from her daydream.  
She smiled gratefully. She had decided to venture into town without Oliver, if for no other reason than she didn’t want to stumble across Oliver today, fearing she might not hold unspoken words back from him.

“Thank you Mister Diggle, and please, just call me Felicity, I don’t think I can take hearing Miss anymore,” she smiled, a hand skating delicately down her neck.  
John nodded as he walked with her to the awaiting black Pierce Arrow Coupe.

“Just you then Felicity?” he smiled warmly as he opened the car door, his eyes roaming across towards the stables.  
“Just me,” she replied, nodding as she took his hand and slipped into the back seat, her own eyes tracking a path back towards where she had left Oliver.

* * *

  
Oliver had retreated back inside the stables after Felicity had left, the terrycloth still clutched in his hands as he slumped onto the stool in the corner. His lips folded inward and his chin dropped to his chest. The hurt on her face was pointedly obvious. It was never his intention to hurt her, quite the opposite in fact, he knew he had a ticket out of this place and it would be cruel to allow anything to happen between them, just for him to leave her.

Oliver had spent his youth oblivious to Felicity’s young crush on him. He had never considered her anything more than a younger friend. It had only been after she left that Oliver was made to consider her as something different, something more.

*****February 1917*****

Oliver kicked a stone underfoot as he and Tommy wandered through town with a few coins burning holes in their pockets.  
“I ain’t able to stay long,” Oliver sighed, sipping on his bottle root beer.  
“How’s that?” Tommy replied, rolling the hard candy around his mouth, tapping it loudly against his teeth.  
“Mam says I gotta write Felicity a letter for her birthday, I got till morrow morning when Mam is heading to the postal,” Oliver kicked at the stone a final time, sending it veering off to the side.

Tommy stopped, plunged his hands into the pockets of his brown pants and rocked on the heel on his shoes a grin brimming on his face.  
“Why are you gawking like that, you fool?” Oliver asked, whacking Tommy on the arm.  
Tommy laughed, his head shaking mockingly.  
“You really ain’t got a clue aye?” Tommy continued laughing, the hard candy spilling from his mouth.  
“What ‘bout?” Oliver pouted, his young brow furrowed in annoyance.  
“That Smoak girl ain’t been following you round for years cause she liked chores, you idiot,” Tommy mocked, whacking Oliver back, “she’s been crushing on you for years and you’re acting a fool ‘bout writing her a letter.”

Oliver raised a brow suspiciously at Tommy before he laughed and shook his head.  
“No, she ain’t been. She just liked the animals, she told me so.”  
“As dim as an unlit lamp you are,” came Tommy’s reply.

Oliver opened his mouth to reject the insult, but not before he gave a second thought to what Tommy was saying.  
“Shit,” Oliver cursed under his breath, “You reckon?”  
“Oliver, her family is the richest in town, you think she rightly liked feeding pigs cause she liked animals? How you ain’t seen it before?” Tommy rocked his head back and forth, “Even Laurel seen it you goop.”

Oliver’s mouth was parted, his face frozen in that state.  
“It ain’t no wonder why she spent Christmas in New York,” Tommy jested, “she ain’t been nothing but sweet to you and you made her sweep out stables,” his hand slapped down against his knee.  
“I, but, I,” Oliver stammered, pushing his fingers through his hair, scratching his untrimmed nails into his scalp.  
“You ought buy that girl something,” Tommy nodded towards the jewellery and silversmith store across the road.

*******

Oliver stood in front of the glass case filled with tiny hairpins and trinkets, completely overwhelmed by the sheer variety of it and dubious about Tommy’s insistence that the least Oliver could do was buy Felicity a birthday present.

There were pearls, garish silver hair pieces, broaches with regal paintings on them and earrings that reminded him of the old woman who would hiss at any children who happened to walk passed her gate after school – none of what he was looking at looked like something Felicity would like.

“I don’t rightly know,” he huffed under his breath, dragging a finger along the top of the glass case.  
He stopped in front of a second display and crouched down in front of it. Cocking his head to the side, he looked intently for what had caught his eye as the store clerk tapped impatiently on the counter top.

“That one,” Oliver exclaimed pointing out the blue and yellow hairpin that was buried behind a ludicrously large gold and pearl broach.  
The clerk took the delicate hairpin from the display and placed it on the top. Oliver lightly touched a finger to it, it looked just like something he would imagine her showing up wearing one Saturday morning. Pretty but not outlandishly so.

“How much?” Oliver asked, fumbling his hand into his pocket in search of his money.  
“A dollar and a quarter,” the clerk replied, “it’s silver, not junk,” he continued, explaining the price.  
“I ain’t got that much, I need almost half more,” Oliver sighed.  
Tommy emptied his pockets, placing every last coin he had onto the counter top. The clerk counted it out.  
“You’re still a quarter short,” he replied shortly.  
“I’ll work for the rest, every day after school for a week Mister, cleaning or whatever needs doing.”

The clerk mused over the idea, aware he had a stock room full of silverware that needed polishing.  
“You know how to polish silver?” he asked Oliver, his elbows leaning on the counter.  
“Aye,” Oliver nodded.  
“You stay till the job is finished out back and it’s a deal.”  
Oliver stuck out his hand, “Aye, deal.”

* * *

  
Oliver remembered distinctly the hours he had spent in the storeroom of the shop, polishing countless pieces of silverware and mulling over what Tommy had said.

He had never looked a Felicity in that way, they were children, but the more he had considered her actions in conjunction with the possibility that she had a crush on him, the more he began to feel decidedly foolish for never noticing it before.

Oliver’s young mind had concluded that perhaps he had a share in the reasons why Felicity hadn’t returned over Christmas break or why she had not written him back. He had spent countless hours mocking her in jest, treating her no different to Tommy and when she had left he had made little attempt at comforting her.

His mother had once told him that when a girl offers her heart to a boy that it _“weren’t something to be toyed with. If it ain’t for you, you say thank you but this ought to belong to someone else. If she is the right girl for you then you treat that heart with the kindest of hands, because a broken one isn’t easily healed”_

When he had asked his mother about it, she had smiled kindly and told him that it was never too late to treat a person kind. That was why he wrote her even when she never wrote him back, just so she would know that she had a friend to come home to.

Oliver knew now that she had never received those letters and that his actions had no bearing on why she had stayed – or been kept – away so long.

He may not have known her feelings all those years ago, but he wasn’t so blinded by naivety now. Now he _did_ recognised the way she looked at him – offering her heart with open hands – and he’d be lying if there wasn’t a part of him that wanted to accept it.

She had looked beautiful to Oliver, sitting up there on the fence post just a hint of rouge on her soft lips and wearing a white dress that was stunning in its simplicity.

When she had turned her head back towards the house he had spotted it – nestled in her blonde locks – the tiny blue and yellow silk forget-me-not, Oliver realised that it looked exactly how he imagined it would all those years ago – effortlessly charming.

In turning her away today he had thought he was doing the right thing – right by her, right by him, right by her family – but every bone in his body told him it wasn’t right at all.

* * *

  
“How long have you worked at the Ranch?” Felicity asked, eager to make simple talk as she hated the deafening sound of her own thoughts.  
“Near on five years,” John smiled, his head titling slightly towards the backseat where she sat.  
“You must be glad to be home,” he continued, the car rattling gently along the unsealed road.

“It doesn’t feel much like home anymore,” Felicity mulled over her words as she looked out across the view.  
“Home isn’t about stepping into the same shoes we left in, more often than not it’s about accepting the ones we came back to. Only a few constants in life, we’re born and we die, but between those two absolutes we have endless possibilities,” he spoke in a calming manner Felicity found both endearing and comforting.

“I just wish it all didn’t seem so strange to me, the people I knew, they don’t seem like the same people anymore,” Felicity mused as her fingers picked absently at the hem of her dress, her eyes dropped to the floor.

John cleared his throat as smiled as he pulled the car over to the side of the road.  
“I don’t know Miss Felicity, maybe everyone’s not so different as you think,” he smiled, turning the ignition off.

“Why are we stopping?” Felicity asked, watching as John stepped from the car.  
John smiled once more as he opened her door and gestured back down the road.

With one foot out of the car she looked down the road and caught sight of him, slowing to a halt atop a pure white mare. With the ease of a man who had been riding horses since before he could walk straight, Oliver slipped from the saddle and rubbed a hand down the horse’s neck in a calming manner.

Oliver nodded a smile at John who idly stepped away from the car, deciding to take an interest on the far side of the road.  
“What are you doing here?” Felicity asked, realising her tone was harsher than she had meant it to be, but equally unapologetic for it.

“I told you I’d take you, it weren’t right for me turn you away,” Oliver replied, tipping up the brim of his hat.  
“I’m not some chore that needs doing, I’ll be just fine on my own,” she huffed, unwilling to feel like he was accompanying only out of duty.

She turned away, readying herself to get back into the car when his hand caught her just around the elbow, his grip warm against her silken skin.

Felicity looked down at his hand, almost to ensure she wasn’t imagining its presence there, before she looked up again, catching his eyes that were lingering on her.  
“Oliver,” she spoke softly, his name drawn out on her lips.

“That ain’t what it is,” he said gently as he released her arm.  
“Then what _is it_?” Felicity asked.  
“I want to take you,” he sighed, his eyes never setting off her, “I reckon we have some catching up to do.”

She blinked at him in silence for a few moments, before drawing in a breath and leaving her lips slightly poised over her next words.  
“Alright then,” she spoke softly, her brows pulled in just ever so slightly suspicious of the words he spoke, scared that this change of heart would only be followed by another rejection.

“Who is this beauty?” she asked, turning her attention to the horse that nuzzled in against her.  
“She’s yours, suppose you could call her Buttercup if you wanted,” Oliver laughed, handing her the reins, “your Pap said you ought to have your own while you’re here, he told me to pick you a good one.”

“And did you?” she asked, her fingers running through the recently groomed mane.  
“Aye, she’s fast, but sure footed. Spirited but she ain’t never thrown a rider,” Oliver replied, unable to tear his eyes away from Felicity, watching her as she let her eyes dance across the horse, taking in everything about her.  
“She’s lovely, does she have a name?” Felicity asked, trailing her hand across the shoulder, delicately skimming her fingers across the light leather saddle, it looked almost new.

“The old man we bought her from said she had belonged to his daughter, when his daughter passed he changed her name to Malamalama to honour his daughter’s life, it means light in Hawaiian he said, but you can change it if you want.”  
Felicity smiled, finally looking up at Oliver.  
“No, Mala, I like it and that’s a beautiful story. Can I ride her now?”  
“She’s your horse Felicity,” he smiled, stepping around beside her and offering his hand to help her up.

Felicity smiled brightly as she slipped her foot into the stirrup and used it, together with his stabled hand, to propel herself up onto the horse. She adjusted her dress so it sat splayed across her legs, the hem of it grazing just above her knees – he mother would likely be horrified, but at least that way she wouldn’t tear this dress.

Oliver’s hand gently walked up her calf, raising her leg from the stirrup as he adjusted it up, tightening the belt on the saddle so it sat at the right height for her.  
“And how will you be getting to town?” she asked, watching as he walked around the front of Mala.  
“I was hoping you’d let me ride second saddle with you, or it’ll be a long walk to town for me,” he smiled, taking her second leg gently into his hands, repeating the same process he had done moments before on the other side.  
“I reckon that would be alright,” she smiled as he smoothly placed her foot back into the stirrup, his hand lingering on her calf a little long than it needed to.

Oliver gripped the horn of the saddle and hoisted himself onto the back housing, his broad chest pushed up against her back  
“Are you ready?” he asked, placing his hands either side of her hips, guiding her gently forward in the saddle, allowing him a little more room to move closer in behind.  
“Aye,” she smiled, titling her head just enough to catch Oliver’s eye.

“Thank you for the ride and the chat Mister Diggle, it was greatly welcomed,” Felicity smiled as they trotted up to where he had stood a few feet away.  
“You’re most welcome Miss Felicity,” he tipped his hat and gestured them on their way without another word.

* * *

  
Oliver’s hands tracked down Felicity’s arms before settling atop her hands which tightened around the reins.  
“You never forgot how to ride?” he asked, his breath warm against her bare neck.  
“You were a good teacher,” she smiled, idly letting her head rest back against his chest.

There was so much unspoken between them, feelings not openly expressed and decisions not outwardly made, but for now those things seemed trivial. His hands on hers and her head laid against him felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“Did you get to ride much in New York?” he questioned, his lips closing in on her ear partly to be heard over the sound of a trot on gravel and partly because he felt an overwhelming desire to close any distance between them.  
“Mmm, a few times, but it wasn’t the same, it was never as free,” she sighed, her memory falling back to the clubs and dressage competitions, all stuffy and restrained – nothing like home.

“You wrote me about those things?” his tongue skirted along his bottom lips, his eyes drawn to the way she gently arched her neck, a delicate scent of roses filling his nostrils.  
“An embarrassing amount of times,” she laughed, her eyes dancing along.  
“I wish I could have read them, I would have liked to have known you happy out there.”

She turned her head to look at him, their faces barely an inch from each other. Soft wisps of hair danced across her blushed cheeks as her dark eyelashes blinked against her porcelain skin.  
“I was always happier here than I ever was out there. I missed my home,” she blinked again, her teeth pulling in against her bottom lip, “I missed my friends.”

She wanted to add that she had missed him most of all, but that was a secret feeling of her heart she wasn’t ready to part with just yet.

“I’m sorry for that,” he spoke softly, his middle finger stroking gently against her hand without any given forethought, “still, I reckon I would like to hear about it all sometime.”  
Felicity watched his lips as they moved over his words, unable to pull her gaze away.  
“I reckon town could wait for another time, maybe we could talk instead?” she asked timidly, half expecting him to reject the idea.  
“Aye, I’d like that.”

* * *

  
With his hands atop hers, Oliver veered Mala from the road and jumped her over a low fence along the boundary of a flourishing meadow. The tall grass brushed up against Felicity’s bare legs as they cantered through the field, heading toward a row of soft rolling hills beside a small thicket of summer blanched trees.

Far from the road and with not another soul around other than a flock of birds flying overhead, Oliver slowed Mala till she came to a stop, a hoof gently scraping against the dry ground. Oliver’s hands released the reins, his palms moving from their settled position atop her hands.

He leaned in against her back as he dismounted, offering his hand to Felicity.  
She eyed it up with a smirk.  
“Last time you offered to help me from a horse, you ended up on top of me, you reckon I ought trust you now?” she laughed, playfully swatting at his hand.  
“You’ll just have to trust me. I got you this time,” Oliver replied, his head tilted up to her, his weathered hat sitting low on his forehead.

Felicity placed her hand lightly onto his before his fingers curled over it, his much larger hands almost fully enveloping hers. She slipped from the saddle with ease, her feet landing softly on the ground as his other hand caught her waist gently stabilizing her body.

“I reckon last time it was those shoes of yours,” he smirked, leaning in his head, as if his words were meant for her and her alone.  
“Only a clumsy tradesman blames his tools,” Felicity smiled, slipping her hand out from his.

She took a few steps towards a shaded patch of grass, an overhanging branch of the flowering tree above letting in just enough sunlight to dance over the tall grass. She tucked her hands down her dress folding it into the crook of her knees as she went to sit down.

“Wait, don’t sit,” Oliver called as he looped Mala’s reins over a nearby tree.  
Felicity paused, looking at him oddly as he grabbed something from the saddlebags and took a few hurried steps towards her, the long grass parting either side of his stride.  
“You can’t be ruining that pretty dress Miss,” he smiled, laying out a heavy dark brown canvas jacket that folded down the grass underneath, “Sit on this.”

Felicity nodded through the smile that she couldn’t remove from her face. The torch she had carried for Oliver all these years had never really dimmed and after only spending precious few moments with him since her return she was coming to realise that perhaps there was now much more to it.

Oliver grabbed another small bundle of cloth from the bag and brought it over to where Felicity sat. He settled down opposite her and slipped his hat from his head, putting it to one side before he ran his hand roughly through his hair.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, holding out his hand where the still-wrapped biscuits lay.  
Felicity smiled widely, “That’s very kind. Oliver Queen sharing his food, I didn’t think I’d see the day,” she jested, unfolding the cloth in his hands and taking one of the biscuits delicately between her thumb and forefinger, “I should be writing this here day down.”  
“I don’t reckon it counts for much if I’m offering you your own food back,” Oliver laughed, taking one for himself before setting the cloth down between them and lying back in the long grass, one arm folded back behind his head.

“Tell me about New York,” he asked, watching the breeze move the clouds slowly across the sky.  
“What do you want to know?” she asked, tousling her plaited locks between her fingers.  
“Tell something that made you happy there,” he spoke as his head rolled toward her, his eyes blinking up at her.

“I visited Liberty Island a few times, the Statue of Liberty is amazing up close, but it was the boat trip out there that I loved the most,” she smiled, remembering each time fondly as she idly picked the flowers that grew beside her.  
“And why is that?” Oliver asked, slipping his hat back onto his forehead, shading his eyes from the sunlight.  
“Well mostly because Aunt Matilda hated it so and there weren’t nothing funnier than watching her turn a pale green shade,” Felicity laughed innocently, “but also because the salt air always smelled so good and on the days where the wind would whip up and chill against my cheeks, it felt a little like home.”

Oliver raised the hat slowly off his face, holding it just above.  
“You missed this place a lot huh?” he asked genuinely, his brow softening as he spoke.  
“It was my home, I thought it always would be,” she replied, threading one flower through the stem of another, idly making a growing daisy chain.

“You stayed here for your Mam?” Felicity ask, blowing back a flop of hair that fell forward across her face as her fingers carried on their intricate task.  
“Among other reasons, but yes, mostly Mam,” he dropped the hat back onto his face, “tell me about the studies you did in New York.”  
She sighed, flopping backwards into the tall grass.  
“I don’t want to talk none about schooling Oliver,” she laughed.  
“Why is that? They couldn’t make you a lady neither?” Oliver smirked, lifting the hat from his face just enough to catch her reaction.

Felicity kicked her foot out at him, catching him on the side of his leg with her heel. Oliver reacted quickly, grabbing her foot at the ankle and pulling her towards him.

She laughed vividly as she sat up then tumbled forward beside him, her hand pushing into the side of his waist in the exact spot she knew he was once overwhelmingly ticklish.

Oliver’s body buckled into itself as he released her foot and tried to squirm away. After a few moments of uncontrolled laughter at her hands he broke free and stood up, brushing scattered grass debris from his clothes.  
“Oh you’re in for it now,” he smirked through his warning, slowly easing his hat back onto his head.

Felicity’s eyes widened as she scuttled backwards through the tall grass.  
“Don’t you dare, I know what you’re thinking,” Felicity laughed as she stood up, her eyes latching onto his.

Oliver took one large step forward causing Felicity to raise her hands towards him.  
“I mean it Oliver, don’t you even think about it,” she blinked at him and then toward the tree behind them.  
She knew exactly what he would be planning, he had done the same thing to her many times in the past.

He lunged forward as she yelped and ran away, his fingertips just barely touching against her waist. She ran to the side of him as he chased her behind the tree, the flowers and grass ruffling around them.

“You ain’t going to get far in those there shoes,” Oliver laughed as Felicity hid behind the trunk of the large Willow tree.  
“I know what you’re thinking Oliver,” she called back, cocking her head out from behind it just enough to see him.

He swooped around the side of the tree, making her yelp once more as she tried to run the opposite direction. Oliver’s hand caught her waist this time, pulling her playfully back against his chest where he promptly lifted her up like a ragdoll and placed her easily over his shoulders.

She screamed between laughs as he walked in close to the trunk of the tree.  
“Don’t you dare put me up that tree Oliver,” she squealed, whacking her palms against his broad back.  
“You still afraid of heights?” he grinned devilishly as he stepped one foot into the v at the base of the tree  
“Don’t you do it, I swear to the Lord I’ll put itching powder in your bed sheets,” she laughed, her fingertips just stretched out enough to bury themselves into his sides.

He stumbled backwards slightly at the sudden sensation, slipping her body down his chest, eager to stop her onslaught of tiny feathered fingers.

Oliver swopped her around, her feet landing softly on the ground, but tangled up in his. Felicity fumbled over his legs, pushing him forward and causing them both to tumble in a fit of raucous laughter onto the ground below, this time with Felicity on top.

“That was just cruel Oliver,” Felicity laughed, one hand rested on his chest as the other gently flicked out at his ear.  
“You rightly know you ought not be starting something you can’t finish,” he grinned widely a smile he had not brought out in years, the same one Felicity had often imagined when she thought of him.

Felicity looked down at him in the moment, his eyes fresh and full of life and his lips pulled up at the corners. That was her Oliver, he was still in there, she would never doubt that again.

* * *

 

The street lamps were lit as the first stage of evening started to fall, the air still warm from the day’s sun. Oliver dismounted then offered his hand to Felicity, his other hand gently resting on her waist so she could dismount without her dress skating upwards.

His hand lay kindly on the small of her back as he opened the door to the local roadhouse Inn. Felicity walked into the once familiar Inn, she had been there many times with her parents during her younger years and she was pleasantly surprised it appeared not a single thing had changed.

Oliver stepped in after her, his eyes darting around the establishment until he found who he was looking for. His hand touched briefly against her elbow, signalling her delicately to follow him.

“Tommy, you remember Felicity,” Oliver smiled, stopping in front of a booth where Tommy sat alone.  
“Felicity Smoak, wow you grew,” Tommy spoke, a hand briefly touching her shoulder as he placed a decidedly forward, but not uncomfortable, peck on her cheek.  
Felicity smile graciously as Oliver gestured for her to sit down.

Tommy slid back into the booth, sitting opposite Felicity, his hands tapping out a gentle rhythm on the oak table.  
“I’m going to get some drinks and food, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Oliver said his eyes focusing on Felicity before he turned to Tommy, “be nice Merlyn, she’s classier than you’ll ever be,” he joked, slapping his arm playful.

Felicity laughed, comforted by the knowledge that the friendship between Oliver and Tommy had clearly been maintained over the years.  
“So New York was good to you,” Tommy grinned, his hands gesturing towards her face, “You were just a little kid last I remember.”  
“I suppose seven years anywhere will change a person,” Felicity replied.  
“Are all the stories I hear about New York being more open and accepting, forward in their thinking, they true?” Tommy asked, a tinge of sadness in his tone, “not like Starling.”  
“For the most part yes, New York offers open arms to anyone who shows up on her doorstep,” Felicity replied.  
“Wouldn’t that be nice, to be accepted in a place regardless,” he leant back, his arm stretched out across the top of the brown leather seat.  
“One day I’ll make it to her doorstep,” he finished with a smile.  
“Well I know some pretty wonderful people up there that would look out for you, before you head out, be sure to let me know,” Felicity replied sweetly.

Her eyes wandered to where Oliver had walked. They found him standing at the bar, talking to a brunette in a silver fringed dress, not unlike the ones Felicity had seen around the dancing clubs of New York. She watched him carefully as he opened the woman’s palm and placed a roll of bills into it, before closing it back up again.

“Who’s that?” Felicity asked Tommy, nodding towards the exchange.  
“That,” he sighed, “is Laurel.”  
Felicity coughed her surprise, “Laurel Lance?”  
“In the flesh,” he shrugged, stirring his straw through his drink.  
“You don’t much like her?” Felicity asked, sensing the distaste dripping from Tommy’s words.  
“I’m told one ought not speak unkind about a lady,” he replied.  
“Oh, sorry,” Felicity spoke, gently thumbing her fingers through her plait.  
“But,” he smiled, looking up from his drink, “she’s not so much a lady so it’s safe to say I hate that woman,” he laughed, slapping a hand against the leather seat.

Felicity choked in her surprise, laughing loudly enough that the older man at the booth next door flashed her a sullen glare. She cupped a hand across her mouth, her eyes widely staring at Tommy.

“I’m sorry, was that forward?” he smiled.  
“No, that was,” Felicity paused, “refreshing.”  
“Why does Oliver give her money?” she asked, leaning across the table a little.  
Tommy shifted nervously in his seat.  
“I’m not sure it’s my place to say an awful lot,” he said softly before taking a sip from his drink.  
Felicity shook her head gently, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”  
“I ain’t sure how to say this delicately, but Oliver does that cause he don’t much like her night job, he reckons giving her some money makes for one less,” he paused, trying to choose his words, “one less job.”

“I don’t follow?”  
“Well, she’s a, um, lady of the night?”

Felicity raised a brow inwards, mulling over what Tommy was saying, her eyes darting between Oliver and Laurel, then back to Tommy, who was trying not to laugh.  
“She’s a, oooh,” Felicity gaped, finally understanding what Tommy meant.  
In New York they referred to them as madams and they made a startling amount of money from selling their bodies, much more than any factory worker.

“So he gives her money not to, uh,” Felicity blushed, unsure of what words to choose.  
Tommy nodded, “That’s Oliver, always trying to save someone.”

* * *

  
Oliver stopped Mala near the gates of Felicity’s house. She sighed quietly, her head rested against his back, her eyes softly lidded, enjoying the last few moments of their peaceful ride under the high moon.

She didn’t want to leave this moment just yet, she didn’t want to unravel her arms from around his waist, she didn’t want to hand back his jacket and part from him this night, afraid she would wake up tomorrow and it would have all been some kind of hallucination.

“We’re home,” he spoke, delicately trailing a finger down her arm.  
“Do we have to be?” she asked, humming her words into his back.  
“Felicity, your folks will probably already be wondering where you got to,” he smiled, peeling back her laced together fingers.

He slid down from the saddle, his shoes skidding on the gravel underfoot. Felicity lifted her leg, slipping her body to one side. Oliver’s hands ran up her sides, gently skating up the delicate fabric of her dress. Her body skimmed against his as he lowered her to the ground, their lips hovering dangerously close to each other.

Oliver held her for just a few moments, watching the moonlight dance across her skin before he dropped his hands to his side and took a step back.  
“Thank you Oliver,” she smiled, her head tilted up towards him, watching his eyes as they blinked nervously, “I had a nice time.”

“I’m glad for it,” he smiled, “I hope it was a welcomed distraction.”  
His eyes lingered on hers as his tongue skirted between his poised lips.  
Felicity breathed out a soft laugh, blinking her eyes downward, her chin dropping shyly into her shoulder.

“Felicity,” Oliver started, her name warm and soft on his lips.  
She looked up at him, the light catching the blue of her eye, shining it white and clear.  
“I was wondering, maybe,” he stumbled over his words, chuckling nervously.  
Felicity raised her brows, smiling brightly at him.  
“I go to Mam’s tomorrow for supper, maybe you’d like to come too. I reckon she’d love to see you.”

Felicity lay her hand gently against his chest and feeling it rise and fall with each breath he took. She raised her body onto her toes, balancing against his. She placed a soft, lingering kiss against his slightly chilled cheek.  
“I’d like that,” she whispered as she pulled slowly back from him, her lips dancing out each word against his skin, catching the line between soft skin and prickled scruff.

“I’ll come by around half six,” Oliver replied, breathing her in as she moved away.  
“Alright, I’ll be ready,” she smiled, her lips folding into a soft pout.

She looked over as the porch light came on feet away from where they stood.  
“Goodnight Oliver,” she slipped his jacket from her shoulders and folded it in half, dancing her fingertips over the collar.  
“Goodnight,” Oliver smiled, taking the jacket from her hands as she held it out to him.

She let the canvas jacket slip from her hands as she walked away, making her path towards the house.  
“Felicity,” Oliver called out.  
She turned around, walking her next step backwards  
“You should wear something really New York like, Mam would love that,” he winked with a soft smile.  
“Alright,” she laughed, running her hand through a section of hair that had come lose from her plait.

She wrapped her arms gently around her waist, her cheeks peached and her face smiling from her cheeks as she walked quietly up the porch stairs, acutely aware Oliver was watching each step she took.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Tommy... I needed to redeem him lol


	6. Silhouette of Light

“Do you have any idea how late it is?”  
The question startled Felicity from her thoughts as she stepped into the house.  
“I near on sent people out looking for you,” Donna cooed stroking a hand down Felicity’s face.  
“I’m fine,” Felicity replied, taking her mother’s hand from its resting spot on her cheek.  
“I was with Oliver,” Felicity blushed as she slinked past Donna and headed for the stairs.

“You shouldn’t be spending so much time alone with that boy,” Donna sighed, catching Felicity’s hand on the first balustrade.  
“And why is that?” Felicity asked, leaving her trapped hand, but twisting her body to make eye contact.  
“You know why young lady,” Donna prudently replied.  
“I’m a bit slow, I might be needing it explained to me,” Felicity pouted, relishing the awkward pinched face her mother was giving her.  
“Felicity Smoak, you know what this world is built on, it’s built on morals and rules.”  
“And those dictate who I can and cannot spend time with?” she pulled her hand out from under her mother’s palm.  
“All I have ever wanted for you was a good life,” Donna sighed, her hands gesturing around the room.  
“Well how about you let me live one first mam. I just want that chance.”

Felicity didn’t wait for an answer, choosing instead to leave her words hanging there as she walked calmly up the stairs, into her room and fell against the back of the door.

She refused to let the moment on the stairs sour the blissful day she had been part of. Oliver had awakened dormant feelings inside her and in the process they had flourished from innocent day dreams of a childish mind to something that churned inside her, radiating from her core down to her toes and up to the blush of her porcelain cheeks.

She was thinking about Oliver Queen in ways that would be rightly frowned upon by the God fearing folks around these parts.

Felicity licked her lips and wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, imagining for just a moment that they were his arms holding her tightly. She mewed softly at the mere thought of it. A moan softly hitched in the back of her throat as she blindly toed off her shoes, refusing to open her eyes and severe the vision of him she had in her mind.

She walked over to the vanity, the lamp in the corner of the room lighting her path and casting a shadow of her as she moved across the room.

She unwound the elastic at the bottom of her plait, freeing her hair from its style. She lay the delicate hairpin onto the white lace doily atop her vanity, touching just the tip of a finger on to it.

Felicity moved back across the room, standing absently beside the window at the foot of her bed. She closed her eyes once more, her lip caught between her teeth as she traced a single finger up her arm, imagining it belonged to Oliver. She drew a hand to the back of her dress where the yellow sash had been tied tightly. She thumbed over the fabric, feeling it drag between her forefinger and thumb before she gently tugged the bow lose and sent it billowing softly to the floor. Delicately she unthreaded the pearl button just below her hairline, opening up the upper back of the soft lace dress.

She felt a tightening between her legs as she imagined her hand was Oliver’s hand as it gently circled the top on the zipper at her back. She sighed quietly as she slowly drew down the zip, touching her hand to bare skin as she reached the bottom just below the dip of her lower back.

She hummed at the recollection of how he smelt as she imagined touching her lips to his. She floated in a circle, her bare feet dancing out a pattern on the wooden floor and her hands peeling the dress slowly from atop her shoulders. She gasped a small inhale as the gentle breeze from her cracked window swept around her almost naked skin as her dress fell to the floor.

***~*~***

Oliver wasn’t sure what he was doing in this exact, anchored spot. He had taken Mala back to the stables, deciding to leave off brushing her down till the morning. It had taken only a few moments for him to remove the saddle and bridle and ferry her into a stall.

From there he took the same path he always did, lit by the moonlight – or if it was a particularly dark night, a gas lantern – past the Smoak house, down into the valley and off to the eastern boundary where the old barn was. He never slowed, never paid much attention to what was happening to the right or left of his path and he certainly never stopped … to a complete halt, like he was now.

Stopped.  
Staring up at the silhouette cast in Felicity’s window.

He watched as what he assumed was her sash floated to the floor, the lamp behind her illuminating each move she made. He watched, without blinking, as her hands folded in around her back, slowly drawing a line down her spine. When her hands moved to her shoulders and she moved in a floated circle he realised what he was watching, just as her dress glided to the floor.

Oliver knew he should leave, but when she took another step into the light and he saw her in absolute detail he found his feet unmoving as if buried in poured concrete.

***~*~***

Felicity’s fingers traced along the neckline on the silk peach bralette, trailing the line from one strap slowly down and across to the other, her thumb nail slightly grazing against her smooth décolletage.

She sighed openly, thinking about how his chest had felt under her palm as she lay half atop him in the meadow. She could feel her pulse quickening as her mind scurried to imagine how his naked skin would feel against the sensitive pads of her finger tips.

Felicity rolled her head lazily from one shoulder to the other, a hand slowly gliding down to the waistband of her matching silk tap shorts. She allowed herself the passing fantasy that her hand instead belonged to Oliver. The thought of his hands on her in such a nature made her inadvertently blush hot across her cheeks. A man had never touched her in such a manner, she had never entertained the thought with any of the suitors that had attempted to court her, especially that bore of a last one her mother had pre-packaged for her, he had been the worst.

But that didn’t mean Felicity was unaware of such workings, in fact Macie, being a full year older and a great deal more experienced, had taken great pleasure in regaling Felicity with tales of the very intimate workings of such things.

Felicity found herself here, now, in her childhood bedroom recalling such tales and, between her flushed cheeks and light hand tapping a pattern out across her stomach, she was imaging them with very different characters – namely herself and Oliver.

She closed her eyes softly and danced her hand back up her chest, lightly skipping over her pebbled nipple that was tenting under the thin wisp of material. She drew her lips inwards, sucking them in gently between her smiled mouth. Her thumb skirted the neckline once more, pulling back the fabric of the bralette just enough to slip two fingers under the delicate fabric.

Oliver could see everything.  
Everything.

He knew he should leave, he should tear his eyes away from that window and leave, but he was trapped by his feet’s unwillingness to budge and his eyes refusal and even blink.

He watched as the light reflected the sheen of her lingerie and her small hand dipped underneath the fabric. He felt his pants tightening at his awareness of each tantalisingly slow movement her hand made, he felt his mouth parch and his tongue lick absently against his lips.

His mind soared to imagine a moment where her hand was replaced with his and he found the nerve endings in his hand buying into the moment, like he could almost feel the softness of her skin.

When his hand had touched against her elbow that afternoon he had borne witness to just how velvety smooth her skin was, it had felt like the most delicate of silk fabrics woven by the most skilled of workers. Even under his calloused hands he could appreciate its finery.

Since that moment he had fought back against the desires stirring within him to touch her once more, he had failed to hold himself back when adjusting the stirrups on the saddle, his hand lingering a touch against her calf – which, if at all possible, he had decided it was even softer than her elbow.

Oliver’s hand twitched at his side, gently kneading air between his fingertips, his mind at a soaring height of arousal – what he wouldn’t give to be party to that slow dance her hands were taking across her body – her warm, soft and sweetly scented body…

He felt his eyes closing at the thought and his pants stretching against the bias of the cotton pants, burgeoning to the point where another half an inch would surely cause them to rip clean across. His breath quickened, his pulse raced and he felt his body was overcoming with…

…The dog jumped up at him, sending him toppling backwards into the dirt underfoot. He cursed loudly before he could stop himself. The dog yapped back, misconstruing Oliver’s exclamation as an invitation to play as he scrambled backwards in the dirt, eager to push himself against the wraparound porch of the house and hide himself under the overhung roof gable.

Felicity heard the commotion out the window, her eyes looking directly at the opened curtains for the first time since she had entered the room. It hit her like a mallet, she could see everything that the light from her room shone out onto, and if she could see out….

“Oh god,” she gaped, fumbling with a small crocheted blanket from her bed as she held it firmly against her body.

She stared out the window and saw the dog bouncing playfully in a circle with something caught in its mouth. She leaned in closer, straining her eyes to see it, the shape becoming clear when it fell from the dog’s mouth as he pawed at it excitedly, barking back towards the porch of the house.

It was a hat, more noticeably a hat she would recognise anywhere.  
“Oliver, the dog has your hat,” she called softly out the window, eager to be heard by him and not anyone inside the house.

Felicity heard the scuffle of feet on dry ground before she saw him sheepishly appear from under the sightline of the roof.

He bent down and collected his hat, brushing the dirt dander from atop it before he placed it on his head and shooed the dog away.

She wanted to ask him how much he had seen and secretly she wanted to know if he had enjoyed it, but instead she just smiled through her blush and clutched the purple and blue blanket close against her body.  
_See something you like_ she imagined Macie asking – but Felicity was no Macie.  
“Goodnight Oliver,” she waved, touching her fingers to the edge of the curtain, poised to pull it across.

Oliver tipped his hat nervously as his legs crossed one in front of the other, strangling out the bulge he was sporting and hoping she was unable to see. He swallowed the lump in his throat and raised his hand slowly to wave.  
“Goodnight Felicity,”

He ducked away before anymore awkward words could be spoken between them, turning only briefly as he walked away to watch the curtains draw closed. 

* * *

 

It was sweltering in the mid-afternoon heat as Felicity felt her body wet against the back of the wooden pews. Her lace gloved hand was swatting the bone white fan tirelessly in front of her face as she listened to the minister drone tirelessly on about the virtues of chasteness.

She had tried to stem the smile peeking across her face as he quoted from the Song of Solomon about the shepherd boy’s love for a girl who he had likened to a tower, a leaping gazelle and some other seemingly unflattering metaphor. She tried to quell the giggle that was forming in her throat when she thought about the way Oliver had awkwardly stood outside her window after she had caught him.

Felicity knew he would be there, likely sitting at the back with his family, and she could only imagine what was going through his mind at this point.

She smoothed down the pleated skirt of her white and blue flowery dress, in an attempt to focus her mind and restrain herself from looking idly over her shoulder. But the pull was too great and as her hand lightly thumbed through her low ponytail she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes connecting almost instantly with Oliver’s – 7 rows back and to the left of her.

Felicity’s painted pink lips turned up at the corners to form softly bespoke smile, made just for him.

Oliver blinked down, his own lips mirroring hers to form an equally endearing smile. He had many memories of their shared glances at church. Her family had always occupied the same pew, second from the front on the right hand side of the aisle. His family had always occupied one of the ones at the back on the left hand side. It was refreshingly familiar to him now – almost like there had not been a time it wasn’t like this.

  
*****November 1914*****

Felicity kicked her pristinely polished shoes into a grass mound at the base of the tree that Oliver insisted he climb up on the far back boundary of the little white church where their parents were dutifully making small talk with other parishioners.

“I’m pretty sure there are apple trees at home,” Felicity called up from the base of the tree, watching Oliver climb through the braches of the tree with ease.  
“These ones are on church land, they’re probably holy I reckon,” he called down, balancing on one of the thicker branch limbs.

“The only mention of god and apples weren’t a good one Oliver,” Felicity laughed, tightening the bow on the ribbon at the end of her plaited hair.  
She startled a little as a bright red apple dropped down at her feet.  
“So I figure that must make me a serpent,” he hissed playfully, dangling from a tree branch above her.  
“You ought not say things like that,” Felicity blinked, her small hands resting on her hips.  
“Why? You reckon he’ll smite me proper good?” he laughed, jumping down beside her, another rosy red apple in his hand.

“He just might, and I will point and say I told you so,” Felicity smirked, her young eyes smiling up at the eleven year old.  
“Well now, that ain’t very Christian of you,” he winked, stooping low to collect the fallen apple at her feet.

He breathed over the red skin and polished it in the crook of his elbow before holding it out to her.  
“Go on Felicity, live a little,” he smiled.  
She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him up with raised brows, before she could no longer hold back the giggle from her mouth.

Felicity took the apple from his hand and bit into it, her eyes never leaving off his. Oliver grinned widely as he followed suit, crunching down on the crisp red apple.

* * *

  
Oliver found himself laughing in his seat sandwiched between his mother and Thea, which garnered him a swift jab to his ribs from his mother. He noticed Felicity still looking, her lips curiously folded in on each other, before her mother leant over and whispered something to her which saw her face grimace and her head snap forward.

At the end of the service the doors in the little country church opened widely and the congregation spilled out onto the cobbled entrance outside. Felicity slipped away from her mother’s side, unwilling to follow her mother around the congregation making small talk with people she didn’t care to converse with.

She slinked out the side door and into the soft breeze that was refreshing cool against her heated skin. She dabbed her white handkerchief to her forehead as she looked around the little plot of land, the scenescape of which had barely changed from what she remembered. The trees had grown taller but everything else remained much the same.

Felicity had chosen the side exit to the church for another reason, not just to escape her mother’s penchant for small talk, but also because she was trying her hardest to avoid Oliver. She had stayed holed up in her room all of the morning, she had hid around the corner of the porch when she saw him set off for church in the afternoon and she had kept her head low when they passed by him on the road.

She wasn’t avoiding him because of the awkward exchange the night before – in fact, if she was honest, the thought that he had stayed there outside her window, even if only for a few moments, watching her had given her a surprising burst of confidence. She was avoiding him so he wouldn’t have a chance to bail on their evening together.

Felicity knew him well enough to know that if she could avoid him long enough, the suitable time to cancel on a planned evening would diminish and he would not dare stand her up last minute. So she would avoid him until that time.

“Are you avoiding me?” a voice startled her from behind as she stared out at the view.  
She snapped her head around, coming face to face with Oliver and his concerned smile

Felicity contemplated fleeing, but she knew that would likely make her look like a crazy person and give him rise to cancel their evening plans.  
“Yes,” she sighed truthfully, turning herself to face him.  
“I knew something was off when you didn’t eat breakfast on the porch this morning and when you hid from me before church I kind of figured you were avoiding me,” he smiled, nervously charging a hand through his slightly styled hair.

Felicity pouted her lips and heaved out a sigh, she had decided she already knew what was coming next.  
“Can I ask why? If this was about last night,” he looked down timidly, “I’m rightly sorry for that, I didn’t see nothing.”

“It’s not about last night Oliver,” she replied, picking at the frilled lace at the hem of her gloves, “It’s about tonight.”

Oliver took a small step back, trying to catch the expression on her face.  
“Oh, is something the matter about it?”  
“I don’t want you to cancel on me,” she sighed, her bottom lip snagging on her teeth after she spoke, “I figured if I avoided you long enough you wouldn’t be able to cancel, and you wouldn’t be so cruel to do it last minute when I was starving enough to see fit to eating anything and all dolled up in my finest,” her eyes fluttered up at him, wide with wonder at what words would come next from his mouth.

Without thinking he reached his hand out to hers, cupping his palm around it and lightly squeezing as it sat against her waist.  
“I promise I ain’t going to cancel on you. I even borrowed Tommy’s car for the night cause you can’t be riding second saddle with me in your New York finest,” he smiled, his hand still encasing hers.

Felicity dropped her ear to her shoulder, her eyes scouting Oliver’s face trying to find some sarcastic twinkle in his eye or playful grin hitched at the corner of his mouth – be she found neither.  
“You aren’t toying with me are you Oliver, that would be awfully mean,” she asked as she blinked down, relishing the hold his hand still had on hers.  
“As god is my witness, I ain’t going to bail on your Felicity,” he smiled, nodding through his words.  
“You better not be lying before god, that’s a sin right there,” Felicity smirked, raising her brows up towards the heavens.  
“Still afraid he might smite me Felicity?” he laughed, leaning his head in a little closer to her.  
“I should think if he does, it would be for something a little more exciting that taking the lord’s name in vain,” Felicity replied, hooking up just one corner of her mouth into a playful smile.

“Felicity, it’s time to go,” he mother called from a few feet away.  
Felicity looked past Oliver, meeting the glare of her mother who seemed unimpressed at what she was witnessing.  
“I best be going, I will see you tonight?” Felicity exhaled, swallowing down her nervous quiver.  
“I’ll be there, there ain’t no other choice to make,” he replied softly, leaning his head in close to her ear

Felicity bobbed her head slightly as she withdrew her hand from his grip and brushed past him. She glanced back as she was walking away, flashing him a fleeting but honest smile.

* * *

  
Felicity took one last look at herself in the mirror of her bedroom vanity. It was dress she had never found an occasion to wear and so it had remained unworn since the day that Macie had handed her the bag and declared that she had bought Felicity a present.

It was a decidedly more mature dress than any other Felicity owned, but it was as characteristically opulent as New York itself, while still maintaining youthful charm appropriate for a young woman her age.

The neckline was a soft v, stopping modestly above her breast bone and hugging in tight across her chest. It was a rich deep red with a lighter toned red shift dress underneath, the darker fabric forming patterned brocade along the sides and front of the fitted dress, until the fabric reached her knees where it spilled out into a cascade of rich red floating effortlessly around her legs, skimming just below her ankles.

She had pulled her blonde locks to the side, securing it without any garish accessory to the back of her head, letting the other side flow freely down her shoulder in a tumble of curls. Just a small drop pearl earring hung from each ear as the rest of her remained naked from any other jewellery.

She touched her fingers gently to the necklace Oliver had bought her all those years ago. She hadn’t asked him about it yet and she wasn’t sure whether it would be appropriate to wear it, but she folded it inside a small handkerchief and filed it gently into her small red purse.

She glanced at the clock, it was near on half six, so she would head downstairs and wait for him there.

Felicity reached the bottom of the stairs and took a deep breath as she prepared to take the short walk to the front door. She hadn’t noticed her mother loitering in the doorway of the sitting room until she took two steps forward.  
“Felicity, where are you heading off to?” Donna asked, her arms wrapped around her small waist, mimicking an action Felicity knew she was prone to

“I told you I was going to the Queen’s for supper, I said so this morning,” Felicity replied, keeping her voice light, unwilling to spoil the night with an argument.  
“You’re certainly not going dressed like that, I won’t allow it,” Donna retorted, a pain expression on her face.

Felicity loved her mother, more than sometimes she cared to admit. She was never a cruel or bitter woman and deep down Felicity knew for all her missteps and dramatics, Donna Smoak had only ever meant well – but she just didn’t understand the concept that her idea of what path she thought best for her daughter in every aspect of life differed greatly from Felicity’s desired path and it was for this reason they often found themselves on opposite sides of an argument.

“What’s wrong with my dress?” Felicity asked, hugging a thick shawl around her shoulders, her shoe inadvertently tapping against the floor.  
“A dress like that makes a boy think things about a girl,” Donna replied, awkwardly stiffening her posture.

Felicity laughed softly through an exhale.  
“And you think Oliver is like that?” she shook her head softly, smiling at the thought of him outside her window last night.  
“As nice as you think that boy is, he’s made some poor choices in his life, that Lance girl being one of them.”

Felicity stiffened her back at the mention of Laurel and she instantly stopped smiling.  
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter to me,” Felicity snapped, forgoing her previously calmed tone.  
“Well it should, it caused a right scandal in the town.”

“Donna, it's best we don’t talk about matters that don’t concern us none,” a voice bellowed from the adjoining room.

Donna’s brow furrowed in frustration but she closed her lips tightly, respectfully bowing to her husband’s request.  
“Felicity come in here for a moment please,” Noah asked, not a readable hint of his mood in his tone.

Felicity side stepped her mother and headed for the desk where she knew she would find her father. She stood in front of him, her arms folded over her chest, her lips poised to argue with whatever he came out with.

“You look nice, be sure not to stay out late,” he said after his eyes gave her the once over before he returned to his newspaper, “be sure to be home by 10, inside no later than half after that,” he warned sternly, a request Felicity knew would come with consequences if she flouted it.  
“Aye daddy, I will,” she nodded, kissing a light kiss to his forehead.

As she walked away, Felicity could tell her mother was itching to say more. But Noah Smoak had spoken and when he did it commanded a willing respect.

Felicity reached the door just as she heard footsteps approach from the other side. She opened the door before another word could be said and slipped out it, closing it behind her.

“I was just about to knock,” Oliver smiled as she stopped just short of running into him  
“Let’s just go,” Felicity replied hurriedly, partially afraid that her mother might manage to convince her father to change his mind.

Oliver laughed following Felicity as she bound down the stairs to his waiting car. It was only once they reached the car that they took a moment to appreciate just how different each of them looked.

As Oliver opened the passenger door for Felicity she noticed he was wearing a paled grey button down collared shirt and a slim cut black vest with the slightest hint of a white pinstripe running through it. His scruff was neatly trimmed and his head was missing his trademark hat, his hair instead lightly clippered and tousled. If she didn’t know better she might have mistaken him for a city slicker.

It was at the same moment as Felicity lay her hand onto his before stepping in the car that he saw her, looking older than he knew her to be, but still youthful. His mind betrayed him, taunting him with images from the night before as he tried his best to keep his calm composure. Her makeup was subtle, just a hint of colour in her cheeks and swiped across her lips and only a single dark line framed her thick lashes. He had never seen someone radiate their beauty quite like she did and he sheepishly caught himself imaging what she might be wearing tonight under that tight red dress. 

* * *

They drove the first mile in awkward silence, both unsure where to even start a conversation.  
“You look really pretty,” Oliver smiled, keeping his eyes firmly on the road ahead.  
“I feel a little overdressed for just supper at your mam’s house,” Felicity blushed, a finger mindlessly wrapping itself around one of her curls.

“Certainly not, when I told mam you were coming she insisted we all dress up a little fancier,” he smiled, briefly cocking his head to catch another glimpse of her.  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so fancy Mr Queen,” Felicity chuckled lightly.  
“Ain’t much reason to around here, but for you..” he stopped himself before he went further, swallowing down the rest of his sentence.

What her mother had said was still playing on Felicity’s mind, the talk of Oliver and Laurel and some scandal that they whole town was privy to. She would be lying if she said it didn’t rattle her. She wanted to ask him about it, but feared the questions might put a chill in tonight’s atmosphere.

“Why doesn’t Tommy like laurel, I thought you all were friends?” she asked coyly, hoping she could get some answers from her roundabout way of questioning.  
“We were, but Laurel did some things that Tommy ain’t never been able to forgive her for,” Oliver replied, twisting his hands on the glazed wooden steering wheel.

“But you’re still her friend?” Felicity nervously asked, her teeth lightly biting at the inside of her mouth.  
“I wouldn’t say we’re friends, but it ain’t my grudge to hold.”  
Felicity sighed softly under her breath – typical Oliver was barely expanding on more than just a basic answer

“Why do you give her money? She’s making plenty on her own I hear,” Felicity snipped, instantly regretting the jealous tone with which she spoke.

Oliver twisted his head slowly, looking at Felicity as she sunk lower into the seat, wishing she could take back what she had just said.  
“She’s not a bad person, just a person that’s made some bad choices. It does no one any good to hold those things against her,” Oliver replied, almost sharply.

He sighed, reigning in his misspent tone.  
“I don’t mean to snap Felicity, but folks around here always have something to say on the matter, and its tiresome to hear it,” he smoothed, a small smile flicking across the car at her.

Felicity smiled softly back, embarrassed at the jealous nature her questions had taken.  
“The money ain’t for Laurel either, it’s for her son, Henry.”  
Felicity could have sworn her gulp was deafening as she replayed his words, then looked and him before blinking away again.

“Her son? Is that your-“ she stopped herself from furthering the question, pinching her lips tightly together.  
“He ain’t my son if that’s what you were going to ask,” Oliver replied as he pulled the car over beside a neatly maintained lawn in front of a modestly built house that illuminated brightly with lights on in almost every room.  
“We’re here,” he smiled, easing Felicity’s mind that she had already ruined the evening with her questions.

“I’m rightly sorry Oliver, for all those questions. I shouldn’t pry into your business like that,” Felicity quietly apologised.

Oliver shifted in his seat as he switched off the ignition and turned to face her.  
“You can ask me anything about myself and I won’t lie to you Felicity, but their stories ain’t mine to tell. But at any rate, I ain’t mad at you, you were just asking what any other person would,” he smiled, hovering his hand over her leg, quietly deciding whether it would be appropriate to touch her or not.

He folded his fingers inwards and retracted his hand deciding the answer for himself as a porch light sprung on, shining its light into the car, signalling that the neighbours might soon start noticing how long Felicity and Oliver spent parked up together.


	7. Simple Little Secret

Felicity stopped half a step behind Oliver as he reached for the door handle of the ornate glass panelled front door.

“You a’right?” he asked, glancing back at her over his shoulder.  
She started to nod before her head twisted it into a soft shake.  
“I’m nervous, it’s silly right?” she smiled, her lips folding in on each other  
“You got nought to be nervous over, Mam’s always loved you, seven years away won’t have changed that,” he smiled, reaching his hand out to her.

Felicity tilted her head down towards his hand, debating only momentarily whether to take it or not. It stood out like a beacon reminding her of all the times he had offered it to her when they were children, the moment now looking remarkably like the times she had been nervous to start a new school year. He had always told her she had nothing to worry about and for just a moment he would grasp her hand in his and walk her through the school doors.

She had always trusted him then. She had no reason not to now.

Her painted lips drew back into a lingering smile that resonated through her cheeks and into the spark in her eyes as she lay her hand into his, once again taken aback at how much different their hands looked together now.

“You ready?” he asked, pausing his hand an inch from the handle.  
Felicity drew in a sharp breath of air as she blinked her dark lined lashes and nodded unreservedly.

* * *

  
“New York must have been quite a daunting experience for someone so young,” Walter spoke as the five around the table ate quietly.  
“It was sir, very much so,” Felicity replied quietly.

Oliver was watching her transfixed by the slow and poised movements she made with her knife, the way her back was straight against the chair and the soft gentle way she spoke when she was asked a question. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but she was every bit the type of refined lady that graced the pages of the magazines his mother would buy.

“I understand the importance of education, but it seems overly cruel to send such a young child so far away,” Walter scoffed, ignoring the look Moira was giving him across the table.

Felicity swallowed her mouthful and delicately dabbed the napkin to the corner of her mouth, hiding a smile that was peeking over her lips.

“It was a very good school and I’m thankful for the chance to attend it,” Felicity politely replied.  
“It just seems like such a harsh...”  
“Walter, that’s enough, you’re putting the poor girl in an awkward situation. Her folks had their reasons that aren’t for us to know,” Moira interrupted, her steeled eyes narrowing in on her husband.

Walter grumbled his disfavour, but relented with a slow nod.  
“I wish I could go there, I reckon I’d fit right in,” Thea piped in, her young legs swinging freely on the edge of the chair.

It was in Thea that Felicity truly recognised just how long she had been away from Starling for. Thea had just been a young girl of three and a half when Felicity left, but she was now eleven and bore a striking resemblance to how Felicity remembered Oliver, young with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Maybe Oliver could accompany you there one day, he’d fit right in amongst all the dapper men,” Felicity smiled, her eyes catching Oliver’s across the table.  
“I don’t reckon they wear old leather cowboy hats in New York,” Thea laughed.  
Oliver flicked a pea across the table at his little sister who cackled raucously in response.

“We would have to take him shopping, get him kitted out all fancy like,” Felicity laughed, the light shake of her shoulders, bouncing her soft blond hair, momentarily mesmerising Oliver.

* * *

  
“I’ve been learning it for a year now, but I ain’t very good,” Thea sighed dancing her fingers across the small piano in the corner of the room.  
“I’m sure you’ll get better with time and practice,” Felicity smiled, following Thea around as she dragged her from one spot to another while asking a barrage of questions from Felicity’s dress to what food she ate in New York.

“Do you play Felicity?” Walter asked, lighting his pipe in the corner of the room.  
“I do sir, just a little,” Felicity replied.  
“She’s being modest, she’s played one of those since as far back as I can remember,” Oliver laughed, his fingers placing a light and instinctive touch against her elbow, something that did not go unnoticed by his mother.

“Is that so? Could you play me some?” Walter expressed with delight, his dark loafers tapping out a pattern on the floor.  
“I think Oliver here may be overstating my abilities, but I’m happy to oblige you with a song or two if you’d like,” Felicity dutifully replied, her head titled to blink up at Oliver stood beside her.

Walter nodded with an enthusiasm Felicity found refreshing. It seemed Oliver’s step father spoke with more openness and much more life in this one night than she had seen over a lifetime with her own father.

Felicity lightly dragged her fingers across the smooth ivory keys, barely touching a print to them before she folded her dress underneath her and sat down on the padded stool in front. It had been six months since she had sat in front of a piano regardless of her aunt’s insistence over it. That bore of a man had enjoyed her playing so she had announced abruptly one evening that the sound of it gave her migraines and she would no longer provide the after supper entertainment.

It had been a fabrication of course, she loved the soft sounds of that she could bring from such a large instrument, but no one questioned her after she feigned a fainting spell and spent an entire evening up in her room due to it – writing Oliver a letter, a letter that she recalled vividly.

With her fingers poised over the keys and her lips taking in a short inhale, she could almost remember word for word what she had written, what she had asked of him. She stole a fleeting glimpse at him, wondering what his response would have been six months ago if he had received that letter.

With a second intake of breath she pushed her fingers into the keys, the melodic sound instantly bringing her a refreshingly familiar joy. She had missed such a musical escape.

Oliver didn’t notice anyone in the room but Felicity until he felt a hand grip tightly around his forearm and tug him backwards. He looked over at his mother with drawn in brows and a puzzled smile, before she gestured for him to follow her. After stealing a glance back at Felicity he followed his mother into the kitchen, assumingly to help her with the dishes from supper.

Moira threw him a dishtowel and plunged her hands into the warm soapy water.  
“What are you doing son?” she sighed, putting the first clean plate onto the dishrack.  
“You mean aside from drying these dishes?” he laughed, swiping the cloth over the plate in a swirling motion.

“You know exactly what I mean. I mean with that young girl out there Oliver, what are you doing with her?” her voice was low, calm and her head was bowed low.  
“She’s my friend, she’s always been my friend, it was you that told me I ought to be nice to her all those years ago,” he smiled and sensing his mother’s distress he lay a hand gently on her back.

“I’m not sure why you’re so upset Mam,” he spoke softly with concern running through his words.  
“Felicity is every bit as beautiful as she is charming Oliver, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you and you at her and it isn’t right son.”

Oliver pulled his hand away from her back and drew it through his tousled hair.  
“We’re just friends,” he huffed lightly, picking up the second plate she placed in the rack.

“Oliver, you’ve been making eyes at that girl all evening, you didn’t even look at Laurel that way and you were right ready to marry her,” Moira frowned, the mention of Laurel’s name clearly leaving a sour taste in her mouth.  
“You know that was different, I ought not need to explain that again,” Oliver retorted, his lips pursed at the rehashing of something that was long ago history.

“My point is Oliver that you need to distance yourself from Felicity, as lovely as she might be, it’s not right that you’re out gallivanting with her until the moon is well and truly up. Her mother is concerned.”

Oliver shook his head softly, his lips folding in one each other – there is was, his mother’s reason for her sudden concern.  
“So Donna Smoak says jump and you middle class ladies ask how high, just so you can attend some fancy high tea at her house,” Oliver smirked, his tone taking on the slight bitterness welling inside him.

“Oliver Queen, I trust you will not speak in that tone again. Mrs Smoak has every right to be concerned about where her 17 year old daughter is late at night, I would share her concern.”  
“She wasn’t concerned about her when she shipped her off to New York,” Oliver replied bitingly.

Moira sighed, wiping her hand dry on a hand towel beside her.  
“A girl like Felicity isn’t right for you son, I’m only looking out for you, just like her Mam is only looking out for her,” she smiled softly, her palm smoothing against his cheek.  
“I can see you care about her and she cares about you, but she’s young and use to a life that you can’t give her. She’s never had to worry about how to put food on the table or where the next pennies will come from and that isn’t her fault and it isn’t for her to need to know,” she continued, her eyes glassing over with concern.

“Felicity has never cared about those things,” Oliver replied, his voice softening at the mention of her name.  
“And maybe you’re right, maybe she doesn’t. But if you halt your life to build one with her and in months or years she wakes up one day in your tiny little house with not two dollars to rub together, will she resent you for taking her away from what she is due in life; and could you see her reduced to that? It ain’t the life for her Oliver, and you would die inside seeing her like that. I’m asking you to think wise, put some distance between you until you leave like you planned.”

Oliver watched the lines of his mother’s face as she pleaded the case with him. He had seen his parents struggle for years, maybe she was right, maybe such hardships would break Felicity and he couldn’t bear the thought that he could be the one to do it.

* * *

  
“I don’t want to go in just yet,” Felicity sighed, looking at the car window at the house to the side of them.  
“Will you walk with me a while?” she asked, turning her head back to face him, her hair bouncing lightly across her shoulder as she hugged the wrap tightly around her.

“Aye,” Oliver smiled, stepping from the car.  
Felicity watched him stroll confidently around the front of the car, listening to the loud crunching of gravel underfoot. He opened her door and, ever the gentleman, offered his hand.  
“Where did you want to walk?” he asked, nodding down to beautifully embroidered black and red shoes.

Felicity laughed as she shrugged at the implied impracticability of her shoes and walking anywhere not sealed.  
“To the stables?” she asked as she toed off her shoes and held them in her hand, her other hand lifting up the side of her dress.  
“You ain’t going to get a nail in your foot on my watch,” he smiled, crouching low in from of her.  
“Are you suggesting I ride up on your back?” she laughed, swatting playfully across his shoulder.  
“What, ladies in New York too fancy for such childish things?” he grinned over his shoulder, the high moon catching his slightly raised brow.

Felicity smoothed her palm over the fine fabric of his shirt, taking her time to feel the defined strength of his firm muscles. Absently she pulled her lip inward, flicking it gently with her tongue as she considered her options.  
“You reckon you could hold me?” she whispered, leaning her chin against his shoulder, breathing in deeply against the crook of his neck.

“Aye,” he breathed, the word barely audible as it passed over his parted lips.  
Felicity folded her arm over his shoulder, clasping her fingers around her other wrist, locking them at the centre of his broad, heaving chest.

She pushed her body against his back, dragging her nose slowly across curve of his shoulder as she put a leg either side of his waist, the tighter part of her dress shifting up her body.  
“Okay, I’m ready,” she spoke quietly into the still night air, half expecting her mother to appear on the porch and put a stop to this tomfoolery.

Oliver’s hands glided blindly down her legs, puckering slightly over the bunched fabric at the top of her thighs. They stop just above the inside of her knee and held on tightly as he raised himself up, taking her effortlessly up with him. In that moment he was certain he could have carried her without the use of one arm with little effort.

He felt her body warm against his, the slight tickle of her hair as it danced across one side of his neck. Felicity lay her head against his shoulder, her lips almost touching the soft spot just below his ear. Her lips parted, her breath warm and dewy against his neck, as her mind entertained thoughts of just how much she wanted to close that tiny, but seemingly cavernous, distance between them.

They covered the walk in almost blanketed silence, only the sounds of the night echoing around them and the sound of gravel slipping under Oliver’s heavy footsteps.

Walking her to the same spot she had spent years waiting for him, he backed up against the fence post and she fluidly perched herself atop the post, her hands slowly unravelling from around Oliver as he stepped away from her.

The bottom of her dress billowed back down around her ankles as Oliver turned to face her.  
“Thank you for inviting me out tonight Oliver, I had nice time,” she smiled softly, her hands lightly grazing down either side of his shoulders.

Oliver simply smiled in response before his eyes blinked downward, his mind replaying the words his mother had spoken to him. Even though he didn’t care to admit it, perhaps she had been right, Felicity was worlds apart from him in almost every aspect of life – she was better educated, came from a family name synonymous with wealth and privilege, she never wanted for anything and when he blinked upwards and caught the white light of the moon bouncing it’s marks across her youthful face it was painfully obvious that she was also much younger than him, with a world of experiences still to have.

“Oliver?”  
He watched his name drip from her mouth, her lips forming slowly over each letter, encasing it in the rich sweetness of her tone.

He looked up at her, sitting a whole foot above him, her fingertips walking crooked paths up his arms, lighter than the touch of the night breeze against his cheek.  
“You told me that I can ask you anything about you and you won’t lie to me, you swear it’s the truth, you’ll be honest with me?”

He swayed his head softly as her fingertips reached her base of his neck, poised delicately at his hairline. He caught sight of her eyes, wide with anticipation of his answer.  
“I meant it,” he nodded, the low hum of his voice carrying through the still air.

Felicity paused, blinking through her thoughts, sucking in her cheeks as she rolled over her choice of words, nervously trying to convince herself that she should say them without regret; because if she didn’t she would spend a life time wondering about this very moment and the very question that lay poised at the top of her tongue.

“Do you want to kiss me right now?” she asked, sucking in quickly once all the words had left her mouth ,“or maybe I’m just acting like a silly girl who has read too many stories about this sort of thing,” she idly rambled, her eyes looking worrisomely at Oliver, the seconds he didn’t answer feeling like hours to her.

“I think I’ve gone and said something stupid, I rightly wish I could stop my brain from saying silly things,” she fumbled over her words, her hands pulling back away from him.  
“I’m sorry I-“

He stopped her words with his lips, a soft pressing at first, held back in trepidation. Her lips caved down onto his, her hands wrapping through the length of his hair at the nape of his neck.

In her lips Oliver felt years of his own sadness melting away, finding release from every painful memory that had touched him over the course of time that she had been away. It was in that moment he realised that he had always, to some degree, loved her and he had always, in every aspect of life, needed her. It was inexplicable and inescapable – Felicity was his home.

Felicity’s lips quivered against Oliver’s, her body awash with feelings she was struggling to comprehend. Her hands edged him closer, her body pushed up against his as she craved the taste of his lips danced across hers.

Thumbing her hands through his hair she breathed him in, enveloping his bottom lip between her own as in that moment she felt the justification for years of her heart always feeling the way it did about him. There was a familiar comfort in that moment, like she was feeling for the first time what her heart had always wanted.

She was too young to know the pain love sometimes heaped on a person and too naïve to know that when you love completely it can’t always be returned in kind. But she did understand the low churning in her stomach and the flittered beating of her heart. She knew she loved Oliver.

Their breaths were stalled and shaky when their lips broke apart. A single breath was shared between them as her hands stayed laced through his hair, her thumbs drawing a line through the trimmed stubble along his jaw line.

Oliver blinked his eyes up at her, his hands steady against the curve of her sides. There were words he should say, things he should ask her, but when his eyes looked down and caught sight of her pillowed lips all he wanted to do was kiss them again.

A light misting of summer rain scattered around them, blanketing their bodies in a fine film of warm dewy rain as Oliver scooped up her lips onto his once more, delicately teasing her top lip with his own, his tongue lightly skipping over her cupids bow. He felt her body shaking slightly between his hands before he realised his thumbs were sweeping lines across her breasts.

She sighed as he pulled his lips away, his hands sliding down to her slender waist. He watched as her eyes slowly opened, her lips still parted as if waiting for his to return to them.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, knowing he needed to put distance between them but unwilling to let her go.  
“You should only be sorry for things you regret, do you regret kissing me?” she asked bluntly, tired of the unspoken words she held back from him, “and you swore not to lie to me,” she added, wrapping a finger coyly around a short lock of hair behind his ear.

“It ain’t a simple answer Felicity,” he sighed, absently kneading his hands into the curve of her waist.  
“Well it’s not as complicated as you’d like to think either. You think I can’t tell what’s going on in that head of yours? You may have your mysteries Oliver Queen, but I don’t need to be a bull* to solve them,” she pouted sternly, her foot hooking around his legs, stopping him from taking a step back like she gathered he would.

She was tired of hovering on the precipice of getting what she wanted, and now that she had tasted a fleeting moment of it in his lips she wasn’t letting it go for anyone.

“You think everything is simple, but it ain’t, there are rights and there are wrongs. Things you ought do and things you ought not, no matter how much-“

Felicity trapped his next words in her mouth as she pushed her misted lips onto his, tilting her head to catch his mouth between her. She kissed him once, twice and a third time, breaking just a breath apart with each one.  
“So is that a right or a wrong?” she purred just above his lips, each word hitching a breath in her throat  
Her eyes watched him closely as with parted lips he swallowed heavily, his Adam’s apple dipping down before rising back up.

“It’s not complicated, it’s very simple,” she sighed against his cheek, her tongue lightly dancing up the misted rain caught in his scruff.  
“Fe-li-city,” her name passed atop a breathy exhale.  
“Don’t tell me about stations and rules, I don’t care for any of that, you either want me or you don’t, everything else is dust in the wind,” she whispered, smoothing her fingertips down the back of his neck.

He swallowed heavily for a second time, feeling each word she spoke against his ear. He licked his lips absently, it didn’t have to be complicated.

Oliver weaved his fingers through her hair, grasping wantonly and the base of her head. His lips nuzzled into her neck swiftly, the sheer desire to do so taking over ever part of his body. His tongue swept over her pulse point as his wrist twisted her head down, elongating her neck. His teeth lightly scraped over her silken skin, drinking in a peppered curtain of warm summer rain.

He moaned her name as his other hand slid around her body, resting in the small of her back, holding her tightly against his heaving chest.

He continued pushing kisses up behind her ear, the sweet vanilla scent of her hair playing an arousing dance across his sense. He listened to her panted breath in his ear, each tiny gasp that crossed her lips pushing his kiss deeper into her skin.

“Oliver, I-I,” she mewed quietly as he sucked her earlobe into his mouth, using his tongue to toy with her delicate pearl earrings.  
Felicity ran her nails down his back, gripping in each time she felt his warm tongue flick her lobe playfully around his mouth.  
“Oliver, I have to g-g-“ she panted, feeling a quickening between her legs, “I have to go,” she moaned, her head dropping backwards, freeing her ear from her lips.

Oliver glanced back across the field to her house, he could see the lights from her house invading into the night. Felicity knew it would be near on the time her father had requested she be inside. She also knew that it had been a test her father had laid on her, if she didn’t return when he had instructed he would use that perceived disrespect to refuse any other future requests Felicity might ask of him.

He would not speak against her mother’s wishes if she missed this curfew.  
“Pap, he won’t let me out at night if I don’t get back when he ask,” she explained with a sigh.  
“Felicity,” Oliver lovingly breathed her name, enjoying the way it slowly rolled over his tongue.  
He lay his palms delicately against her skin.  
“It’s alright Oliver, I want to keep this between us too,” she smiled, expertly reading the concern in his eyes.

It was only complicated when anyone else factored in, so for now this moment, these feelings, would remain between them, their own perfectly simple little secret.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bull = police officer


	8. In Your Hands

**Early April 1924**

_"When my time was out, I got my father's note, and then declined working with the man any longer, though he wanted to hire me mighty bad. The reason was, it was a place where a heap of bad company met to drink and gamble, and I wanted to get away from them, for I know'd very well if I staid there, I should get a bad name, as nobody could be respectable that would live there. I therefore returned to my father, and gave him up his paper, which seemed to please him mightily, for though he was poor, he was an honest man, and always tried mighty hard to pay off his debts"_

Felicity read each word carefully and slowly as she lay in the long dry grass that had turned brown in the dry spring heat, her head resting propped up on Oliver’s chest as he lay flat on his back, his hat lying over his eyes and a long thin piece of grass snagged between his teeth.

“Why this book?” he asked casually as his fingers walked up her bare arm.  
They would steal these moments together, hidden away from prying eyes, catching up on the time they had spent apart for near on two weeks now since the night by the stables.

Every break afforded to him would see Oliver meeting Felicity up here on a soft rolling hill on the western bank of Lake. She would read a few passages from _A Narrative of the Life of David Crockett_ , the book she had bought him and the only note he had every received from her.

“He reminds me of you, as I knew you then, always looking for some new adventure,” Felicity smiled, her blonde locks floating softly atop the light breeze, as she watched Oliver’s fingers interlink with hers against the backdrop of her sky blue dress.

“I ain’t sure I’m in a listening mood today,” Oliver smiled, plucking the book from her hand, and lightly tossing it a few feet from where they lay.  
“I’d only just started the chapter,” Felicity pouted, playfully swatting at his arm.  
Oliver winked as he pulled her down, her body pressing up against his, chest to chest.

She smiled a littering of kisses against his stubbled cheek, her hand playing palm to palm with his in mid-air, like the two hands were engrossed in a tangled dance meant only for them.

His lips swept across hers, lightly cupping her pert bottom lips between his. Her small, low hums were intimate in their innocence, each soft sound she so readily made caused Oliver to smile against her lips, a rogue hand fanning through her hair.  
“This ought to be weird,” Oliver smiled as Felicity broke the kiss momentarily.  
“Mmm hmmm,” she buzzed against his lips, peppering three small and lingered kisses on his top lip.  
“But it ain’t,” he sighed, finishing his train of thought.

Felicity drew back, her bottom lip pulled in, caught in her teeth, her tongue lightly skirting over her lip as it dragged free, as if savouring the taste of his lips on hers.

Oliver sighed as Felicity crawled a few inches down his body, her chin resting on his broad shoulders.  
“I got to get back,” he breathed, pressing a kiss into her floral scented hair, her half ponytail scattered with wild flowers she had put in there while she had waited for him earlier.  
“No,” she pouted her ruby red lips, slightly smudged now, “you just got here.”  
“I’m sorry, I have to brand your pap’s new acquisitions,” Oliver pressed a second kiss on her head, this time landing it on her forehead.

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” she asked, her blue eyes dancing over his as she slid her body between his legs, kicking off her sandals as she raised her feet carelessly into the air, her naval incidentally pushing into his groin, eliciting a low hummed approval to pass over Oliver’s slightly parted lips.

‘”Felicity,” he sighed her name as she buried her chin on his breastbone.  
She blinked her eyes up at him, her lips turned up in one corner as she felt his engorged member shifting underneath her.

His body was betraying him, desiring something from Felicity that he was in no position to ask for. They had spoken about her time in New York as it related to suitors and while she offered little as to detail other than to expressly laugh at one in particular, Oliver was certain that Felicity was chaste in the true meaning of the word. He wanted to touch her, intimately, but chivalry had taught him that such a thing should not be asked from a girl….only offered, freely and without coercion.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she hummed her lips over his thin cotton shirt, her dewy breath warm against his skin.  
Oliver’s hands ran paths down and up her arms as his breath became deep, almost laboured, her body crushing against his crotch.  
“I’ll rightly make it up to you, but I really have to go,” he sighed, his tongue absently skirting the outside of his lip.

“How?” Felicity smiled, crawling a few inches upwards, dotting an array of small kisses against his puckered dimple, her leg gently caressing his inner thigh.

She watched as he gulped down, his lips folding over each other, his brow furrowing as if to maintain some semblance of composure. Felicity was testing his chivalry as well as the inseam on his pants.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want,” he spoke, his lips poised on a half smile.  
“I want to go out, somewhere fun, with music and liquor,” she grinned, a polished nail dragging down his jawline.  
“Liquor is outlawed around these parts Miss,” Oliver smiled, unable to hold himself back from pressing a delicate kiss against her full lips.  
“Don’t test me Oliver Queen, I know there must be places around here that give a girl what she wants,” she knee dug slightly into his groin sending a ricocheting bolt of pleasure down ever limb he had.

“There is a workers’ dance on tonight, same night every month, it ain’t fancy none, but it has what you’re after.”

Felicity sat up between his legs and playfully clapped her hands together, a cheerful smile pouted on her lips, “I knew you’d come through for me.”  
“It starts late, and it ain’t for your folks to know about,” Oliver warned as he propped himself up on his elbows.  
“I can sneak out,” Felicity shrugged, a hand lightly tumbling through her hair.  
“They’re working folk also, so dress down as best you can,” he smiled, sitting up fully as he pulled down on a section of her curled hair before smiling as he let it go and watched it spring back you, “I know that’s a big ask.”

“I’m sure I can find something,” Felicity smiled, leaning down to plant another kiss against his soft lips

Oliver’s hands slipped around to the back of her head, his fingers entwining with her soft bouncing hair. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss she had introduced, his tongue lightly scouting across her top lip before she parted them for him. He felt her body melt against his as her tongue timidly encircled his, a low hitched breath in her throat made her throat hum around him as their lips rode together.

He could feel her fingers dancing across the back of his hand which lay sidled against her hip. Slowly she plucked his fingers off her, blindly encasing his hand as best she could with her own, much smaller, hand. He felt her slowly guiding his hand up the curve of her body, slipping over the soft linen fabric of her sundress.

Oliver felt the rise of his light touch over her bra strap as his thumb hooked under the round of the underside of her breast. He could feel Felicity’s breath rapidly increasing as her hand left of his, and both her hands moved to the pearled buttons at the front of her dress. Their lips stay pushed up against each other as if quietly vying for control over the moment. Her tongue peeked into his mouth, coyly skating along the underside of his bottom him.

He could see nothing, but he felt her knuckles bending against his chest as she blindly undid the buttons, folding open the front of her dress to expose her creamy white chest set under the dusky blue colour of her almost sheer bralette.

“Oliver,” she breathed against his lips, her hand finding his again, and once more guiding it across her body.

They parted slowly from the kiss, his eyes dropping to look between where her hand was moving his and the slow rise and fall of her exposed chest.

Felicity, could feel her erratic heartbeat growing with each half inch closer she moved his hand to her breast. Nervously she plucked her teeth on her lip, her blue eyes blown wide with both anticipation and trepidation, her body tingling at the feeling of his slightly rough hands floating the edge of her dress and her skin.

“Felicity, I-“ Oliver started, as his hand met with the sheer fabric of her bralette, fingers either side sliding up against her naked skin below and above the this wisp of fabric.  
He watched as Felicity exhaled through parted lips and, slowing down her racing heart as she guided his fingers underneath the neckline of the this fabric, the tip of his index finger lightly brushing against her pebbled nipple.

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but found no words forthcoming as he watched her eyes intently.

Felicity blinked down as her cheeks flushed peach, her lips squirming over the words she too was struggling to say.  
“Oliver, I want you to,” she breathed, stumbling over the way a girl should present such things.

She knew what she wanted from him, how she wanted Oliver to touch her and to lie with her, but there was no polite ladylike way of asking such a thing.  
“I want,” she started again, fumbling over her words as she screwed her eyes shut.

She almost caved her body into itself as Oliver’s hand slowly began to move of its own volition, gently kneading his palm into the top of her breast, inching further down under the thin fabric, far enough now that his thumb could move lightly over her nipple. She gasped sharply, the grazing sensation of it was more intense than she had imagined. She watched his lips as they parted and then drew back together into a soft smile. She matched his expression with a smile of her own as she leant forward desperate to touch her lips to his.

A mere slither away from cupping his lips into hers a loud ringing broke the silence of the spring air around them, the sudden and violating sound breaking them apart hastily, Oliver scooting backwards and Felicity wrapping her arms frightfully around her chest.

It took a few moments to register the loud banging that had yanked them apart was the fire bell ringing out in the distance. Oliver stood up, fully aware of the uncomfortable bulge pushing against the fly of his light coloured pants.

“I have to go,” he muttered, his eyes trapped staring at the ground, “I’m sorry, for, uh, that. I have to go,” he stammered as he fumbled to put his boots back on.  
“It’s fine,” Felicity, equally as embarrassed at her own forwardness, replied as she re-buttoned her dress, her eyes too remaining downward.  
“I’ll see you tonight, 10pm by the oak,” he quipped with a flashed awkward smile as her flipped his hat back onto his head and took off down the hill to where he’d left Flash to graze.

“Bye, I guess,” she huffed, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment and a low growling in her core that longed for his hand to be on her once more.

Felicity watched him leave before falling back into the long grass, her hands covering her face as she giggled like a child. She listened to the length of the bell, it stopped less than a minute after Oliver had disappeared from view, chances were that it was a small bushfire on the eastern boundary that would be extinguished without a second thought, so Felicity decided to stay put, hiding her glow and her very improper thoughts in the long dry grass.

* * *

  
Felicity pushed a single pea around her plate as she scoured the clock above the mantle of the fireplace in the formal dining room where her mother always insisted they eat.

“You should see to re-joining the church choir tomorrow after service,” Donna spoke, watching her daughter mindlessly chase the pea from across the table.  
“Uh-huh,” Felicity sighed, barely registering the question.  
“And I expect that you can sign up to help down at the hospital as and when needed, it would be good training for you.”  
Felicity sighed through a nod, this time hearing noise coming from across the table but having no idea what words were said – her mind occupied with thoughts of Oliver.

“Your Aunt Matilda is coming for a visit next week,” Donna spoke, more rigidly and with a voice that carried more clearly across the table.  
“Ok,” Felicity smiled, before her brain finally registered words, “Wait, what? Why?” she asked, snapping her head upwards.

“Well she was brought up in Starling, just as I was, I suspect she was feeling nostalgic,” Donna replied coyly, slipping a small fork full of food between her pink lips.  
“She’ll shrivel up like a raisin if she gets too much of this fresh air,” Felicity quipped, looking to her father who was trying not to laugh.  
“Noah, are you going to let her speak about my sister in that manner,” Donna sniffed, for a moment Felicity swore she could see a smile peeking just slightly across her mother’s face.

Felicity knew, as much as her mother would refuse to admit it, that she cared very little for her older, bitter sister. There was near on 8 years between the two of them and Felicity’s father had often told Felicity about the way Matilda would laud those years over Donna – a feeling which after 7 years Felicity had grown accustomed to, causing her to begin to understand why her mother was often like she was.

Noah shrugged his shoulders and carried on eating.  
“She’ll be arriving around noon on Wednesday, I expect you to be around when she gets here.”  
Felicity mindlessly rolled her eyes, a small sigh passing over her lips.  
“I don’t know where you’ve been flitting off to these last couple of weeks, but I barely see you around the house,” Donna remarked casually, dragging her knife over the thinly cut steak.

“I’ve just been enjoying the sun,” Felicity shrugged coyly, dropping her chin to her chest, afraid the blush of her cheek and the glint in her eyes would give her away.

“Well, I hope you’ve been saying covered up, that sun it awfully bad for delicate skin like ours.”  
Felicity bit the inside of her cheeks to stop a nervous laugh billowing from her mouth, causing her to almost choke on the food she had put in her mouth seconds before.

She nodded awkwardly through her spluttering as she took a sip of water.  
“Of course, yes.”

“I’m having the ladies make up the spare rooms now, so I just expect you to be at the house on her arrival”  
Felicity cocked her head to the side, a nuance in her mother’s sentence sticking in her ear  
“Rooms? Is she bringing a couple of cats?”  
Noah, chuckled before he coughed loudly trying to cover the laugh.  
“Honestly you two are behaving like rabble,” Donna replied, this time a definite smile flashing across her face.

* * *

 

“Will you play something for your father and I?” Donna asked nodding towards the ornately carved piano, one much grander than the one last night and the very same one Felicity had learnt on as a child.

Felicity’s eyes looked up at the clock in the sitting room, it was nearing half after eight, so she still had some time to pass.  
She nodded softly in response to her mother who was sitting near a brightly lit lamp doing a needlepoint.

“Matilda says you gave up your playing for a time in New York,” Donna asked, her eyes firmly fixed on the needlepoint in her hands, “she says you claimed the sound gave you migraines.”

Felicity could tell her mother knew instantly that such a claim was a lie.  
“I suppose the fresh air might be doing me a world of good,” Felicity shrugged, gingerly dancing her fingers across the polished ivory keys.  
“Yes, I suppose that could be it,” Donna smiled, blinking across at her daughter for only a minute.

Felicity could sense a shift in the mood of the air around her as she watched her mother’s face tense slightly before she sighed and lay the needlepoint on her lap.  
“I understand you may not always agree with our decisions on things Felicity, but sending you to New York was the right one.”

Felicity sighed, the pace of her fingers slowing across the piano.  
“I understand why you sent me, I will never understand why you kept me away from this place for so long,” Felicity replied, she could feel her chest rising at the anger she still held about the letters that had never made it to her in New York.

“Things weren’t fit for you back here, there was nothing worth missing, except your father and I and we visited as often as we could.”  
Felicity’s fingers banged down on the keys, her attitude darkening.  
“I had friends here,” Felicity snapped.  
“You made new friends,” Donna replied.  
“I had Oliver,” Felicity didn’t stop the words before they fell from her mouth.

Felicity watched her mother’s face constrict.  
“Be glad you weren’t here to see the mess that boy made. Disgusting really.”  
“You don’t even know him.”  
“I don’t need to know him, why your father insists on keeping him in our employ is beyond me.”  
“Oliver has been the kindest person to me since I got back here, you can’t say a bad word about him,” Felicity stood up, slamming the lid of the piano.

“I most certainly can say, quite a few actually,” Donna remarked, also standing.  
The mother and daughter much more similar than they would ever let on.  
“Donna, that’s enough, it makes no sense to be saying things to upset Felicity, let her be,” Noah remarked, nursing the fine cigar between his fingers.

Felicity almost wanted to scour and point belligerently at her mother, but she held herself back, deciding the better of it.  
“I guess it doesn’t matter much, he won’t be around here for much longer,” Donna sighed, sitting back down into her chair, her hands dancing back across her needlepoint.  
“You’re firing him?” Felicity shot the question straight to her father in the corner of the room.

“Apparently not, your father found him work with relatives in England like the boy requested, I believe he leaves from New York in a few weeks.”  
Donna had her head low so didn’t see the colour drop from Felicity’s face.  
_Oliver was leaving._

Felicity slumped back down onto the piano stool. Looking down at her hands she could see them trembling and there was a sudden feeling of nausea raising up her throat. She had only just found her way back to him, only just had a taste of what she wanted and all this time he was holding a truth back from her.

Like everyone else in her life.

“Are you okay dear?” Donna asked, finally noticing her daughter’s complexion.  
“I’m fine, I think I just got too much sun today. I’m going to go lie down for the night,” Felicity replied, her voice quiet for fear any louder might expose the sadness she was feeling.

She bowed her head softly towards her parents as she slinked across the room and disappeared up the stairs.

* * *

 

“What are you doing here? It’s only half nine,” Oliver asked, opening the door to a quietly reserved Felicity.

She looked up at him, his face caught in the beams from the gas lamps around the old barn. She wanted to ask him straight out if he was intending on leaving, but she couldn’t – she couldn’t bear the thought that he might lie to her face, or worse still that he would confirm it all. Whatever his answer would be to that question was one she didn’t want to hear.

“I just wanted to see you,” she settled on those words, they were mostly the truth.  
“Are you sure you’re okay, you look a little a little grey around the edges, and it ain’t just the dress’ fault neither,” Oliver winked, nodding down at Felicity’s rather bland grey wool blend pinafore dress.

Felicity smoothed her hands down the pleated skirt and shrugged  
“You said to dress down,” she replied quietly, her normal playful nature subdued, “this is, was, my school uniform.”  
Felicity’s folded one arm protectively around her waist as her other hand absently ran through her low ponytail.

She blinked up at Oliver, desperate to ask him for the truth, but still desperately afraid to hear it. Felicity tried, to no avail, to stop the single tear escaping out of the corner of her eye.

Oliver smoothed his palms onto her shoulders, his head bowing to meet her eyes. Felicity turned away just as a scattering of tears also bore tracks down her porcelain skin.  
“Felicity, what’s going on with you?” he soothed, his finger pressing under her chin, warm tears burrowing underneath.

 _Is it true?_  
_Are you leaving?_  
_Why didn’t you tell me?_  
Her head screamed.  
“Nothing,” her mouth replied, twisting over the one word lie.

“Felicity you ain’t the only one that can read faces, I like to think I ought to know you pretty well,” Oliver tugged at her chin, moving her face up to look at him.  
“What’s wrong? And this time the truth” he spoke, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

Felicity’s lips quivered over the question, her tear soaked eyes trying to focus on his.  
“Are you leaving?”

Oliver’s eyes were a dead give away. Felicity already knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from his own lips, she needed confirmation he was planning on walking out of her life this time.  
“You promised me whatever I asked, you would tell me the truth, I’m asking you Oliver, are you moving halfway across the world, are you leaving?”

Felicity watched as he pained over the question, his hand scraping over his scalp.  
“I need to hear the truth, because if it’s true, it's best you break my heart now rather than in a few weeks, because it’s in your hands Oliver,” she whispered, free tears curving their way down her cheeks.

_“If she is the right girl for you then you treat that heart with the kindest of hands, because a broken one isn’t easily healed”_

“Felicity, I..” Oliver stumbled over his words, watching her crushing tears and he blinked down at his own hands  
_“it’s in your hands”_  
His dirty, calloused, imperfect hands.

 


	9. One Word

She was still waiting, staring at him with her intense blue eyes, her lips neither sitting on a smile or a frown. Felicity wanted to scald him for his silence, for the way he kept looking at his hands as though hoping the answer would appear written on them. His answer would be no surprise to her, but she was hanging onto the sound of his breath all the same, waiting – just waiting for that little word to fall from his lips.

“Yes,” Oliver breathed, that one word atop an extended exhale, his eyes frowning downwards.  
There it was.

“So that’s that then,” Felicity replied, it was the best she could muster in response although she felt many more words welling inside her.

Felicity took a step backwards, afraid to turn around – wishing to hold his gaze a little longer, but equally aware she couldn’t just stand there in that drafty old barn staring at Oliver a moment longer.

“You should have told me,” she almost whispered the words as she took another step backwards, feeling the rough wood of the open door against her palm.

“Felicity, it was before,” Oliver retorted, stepping forward to close the gap Felicity was forming.  
“Before what?” she almost laughed, for fear the only other emotion she had would make her cry.  
“Before,” he struggled with the words, his brow pinching in, “before you.”  
“You ought to have told me, why start something you aren’t planning on finishing?” she snapped, slapping his arm.

The slap barely made him flinch, but the hurt in her eyes was a crushing blow.  
“You were supposed to be different, you were supposed to be the one who wouldn’t lie to me,” she took another step backwards, one foot out the door now.  
“Felicity it…”  
“I swear if you say it ‘ain’t that simple’ in that dumb voice of yours I will throw a damn horseshoe at your head,” she hit out at his arm again.

He didn’t mean to smile, but the ferocity with which she spoke made him want to scoop her up and kiss her right then and there.

Felicity saw the smile peek across his face and the chuckle pass through his softly parted lips.  
“Are you laughing at me right now?” she snapped, furrowing her brow in an attempt to showcase just how angry she was at him.

“Felicity, it was before you came back I had a plan to leave, there wasn’t anything here left for me anymore. I stayed to take care of Mam and make sure Thea grew right, but she didn’t need me no more and I needed to get out,” he spoke his words clearly, his hand reached for her arm.

Despite her desire to force distance between them in the moment, she didn’t tug her arm away, leaving his hand to rest against her arm.

“But then you came home and you changed everything,” Oliver took another step closer, bridging the gap to mere inches, his other hand lightly touching fingertips to her hand dropped to her side.  
“I didn’t tell you about the boat ticket or the job because the instant I kissed you here,” he whispered, trailing a finger across her softly pouted lips, “and here,” he smiled, moving the same fingertip down her neck.  
“I knew I wasn’t going anywhere that far away from you,” the same finger swept under her chin, lightly lifting her lips to his.

He kissed her delicately, holding back to ensure it was welcomed. Felicity pushed her lips onto his, silently accepting every word he had just spoken. His palm lay flat against her neck, her pulse quickening underneath it as his thumb swept up her cheek, melting into her silken skin.

Felicity pulled herself closer towards him, her body leant up against his, perched on her tippy-toes as her fingers dug into his back, her arms tightly around his waist. Her lips folded around his, parting to allow his tongue access into her warm mouth. Oliver moaned a low growl at the gesture as his other hand pushed palm first into the small of her back, desperate for not even air to be able to pass between their bodies.

He listened, waiting expectantly for the soft hum he enjoyed so much hearing from her. He pushed his palm in again, his fingers now smoothing against the curve of her ass. She hummed against his lips causing him to smile against hers, he did love that little sound she made.

Felicity lightly bit in against his bottom lip as she felt his fingers pulling in against her ass. A flush of colour splashed across her cheek as she felt an overwhelming desire to touch her roaring hot skin to his own.

She traced her fingertips along the ivory coloured button down shirt he had finished rolling the sleeves up on moments before she had knocked on the door. Hurriedly she yanked at the hem from underneath the waist band on his casual slacks. Felicity smiled against his lips and danced her tongue across his dewy cupids bow as she celebrated the triumph her fingers had attained.

Felicity fumbled her fingers across the linen fabric, frustratingly tugging at the small buttons, desperate to loose them as quickly as she could. Finally the bottom button threaded through the hole, the one above it less taxing than the last. Impatiently she dove her hands under the fabric, audibly sighing at the sensation of his bare skin against her firery fingertips.

It was unlike any sensation she had felt before, her hands felt like she was holding fire in her palms and Oliver’s bare chest was the only way to quash the flames. She wanted more of him, she needed more as her hands dove further under the fabric, coursing their path up the defined ridges of his chest. She felt every ripple, every slight rise and fall the definition created, but she was desperate to see it, to lay her eyes on it and watch her hands fawn against it.

Grabbing either side of his shirt she pulled tightly eager to release the fabric from around his body so she could see it and explore it more fully.  
“Hey, hey,” Oliver moaned into her mouth, catching her hands in his own, causing her to mew slightly at the release of pressure he had been holding at the small of her back.

“You can’t go around ripping clothes,” he spoke, still pushed up against her lips, as he blindly but more adeptly unbuttoned his shirt.

Felicity’s hand’s made light work of it from atop his shoulders, pushing it down his arms till it met the rolled up bundle of fabric just before his elbow. Fearing the seconds away from his skin was too long already she left the shirt there, sliding her flat hands back up his arms, keening into his mouth her abundant pleasure at the feeling of it all.

Her feet finally gave way, her tippy toes buckling uncomfortably underneath her. She stumbled backwards, taking Oliver with her before her back met roughly with the wall of the barn, sending the door beside them slamming shut. Oliver’s hands ran down her sides, his body now stooping to make up the loss of height with her feet now almost flat on the floor.

His hands found their way to the curve of her ass and without a second thought he lifted her into the air, pushing her back firmly into the wall, her legs flailing for a moment before they found tenement around his waist.

Felicity gasped at the luxurious feeling of her bare legs grazing against his warm bare skin, ever thankful that she never followed her mother’s advice that ladies always wore stockings out at night.

Oliver’s lips finally left off Felicity’s as he trailed his mouth to just below her earlobe, drinking in the soft supple taste of her neck. His tongue lightly flicked over her hot-to-the-touch flushed skin causing a breathy moan to drip from her parted lips.

Paying no mind to anything else around him, Oliver’s hands slid under Felicity’s drab grey dress, his teeth scratching lightly at her neck as he enjoyed the silken smoothness of her thighs against his palms. His shirt pulled taunt across his back as he hands moved further under her dress, finally reaching the curve of her ass. He rumbled a growl against her neck as his fingers kneaded in against her ass.

“Oliver,” Felicity hummed, her head falling back against the wall as her fingertips dug into his collarbone.  
“Mmmm?” Oliver grunted against her neck, peppering warm fresh kisses down to her crook.

Felicity could feel the stirring deep inside her that seemed to always flourish when Oliver placed his hands on her. She wanted to be with him in that moment, her body swept up in the passion and the heat.

As his body pinned her to the wall and she felt the pressure of his erection sitting firm against her naval as his hands ravished her ass, she tried to push aside the trepidation of the moment, the warning her Aunt had drummed into her about how a lady ought to behave and the years of sermons that had shunned the sinful activities her body yearned for. She wanted Oliver.

“I want you,” she breathed, unaware the words were even coming from her mouth, “years in purgatory, worth it,” she panted, still carelessly thinking the words were only in her head.

Oliver abruptly pulled his lips away from her neck, the sudden shock of cold air against her warm skin making Felicity gasp at the severing.  
“Felicity?” Oliver spoke, his hands stilling against her ass.  
“Mmmmm?” she moaned, her eyes still heavily lidded.  
“Felicity?” he repeated, his mouth closer to her ear.  
Her eyes fluttered open and she was met with his bemused gaze.

“What?” she asked, walking her fingertips over his naked shoulders, her eyes finally wide enough to appreciate his broad chest in all its bare glory.  
“Are you okay?” he asked, his mouth turned up at one corner.  
“With this?” she asked, tapping a hand against his sculpted pec, “absolutely,” she grinned, sliding her tongue across her bottom lip absentmindedly.  
“You were talking about purgatory,” he laughed.  
“Oh” she grimaced, “I said that out loud?”  
“You did,” Oliver nodded, a broad smile across his face, “you said it would be worth it.”

“Well, now you’ve gone and made me feel like a right fool,” she laughed, smoothing her hands up his neck, settling them just under his jawline.  
“I would take you, fool and all,” he kissed a gentle peck against her lips, pulling away slowly, letting her lips linger a moment longer against his.

She went to say something when a knock at the door broke them instantly apart, Felicity almost falling to the floor as Oliver pulled his hands back from underneath her. He pointed her over to the same spot he had once hid from his mother all those years ago, hoping to avoid having to, ironically now, spend time with Felicity Smoak.

Felicity ducked to where his point directed her and tried to make herself small in the shadows behind discarded hay bales.

Oliver composed himself, pulling his shirt back up over his shoulders before he opened the door, half expecting to find the cold stare of her mother, but instead finding the cool smile of John Diggle, his fellow worker and someone he considered a friend.

“Thought we could head over to the easy* together, if you’re still planning on going,” John smiled, “although I recommend buttoning up,” he winked, nodding towards Oliver’s dishevelled appearance.  
“I’ll just meet you there,” Oliver coughed, leaning his body against the lip of the door.  
“Is she coming too?” John asked, nodding towards the shadows where Felicity was hiding.

Felicity stepped dubiously into the light, smoothing down her now slightly messed ponytail.  
“Please don’t rat me out Mr Diggle,” she pleaded, her eyes repeating the same sentiment as her words.  
“It ain’t my place to Miss Felicity, but not all folk see things the way I do. You two ought to be careful, this is a town of big mouths and flapping gums,” John warned, placing a quick tap against Oliver’s arm and tipping his hat to Felicity before he walked back into the dark night.

“Do you think we shouldn’t go? I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Felicity blinked as she took a few steps towards where Oliver stood.  
“Nobody would say a thing, that would out them for where they’re at. I reckon it will be a’right, and I did promise you fun.”

* * *

  
About a 20 minute ride further away from town than the Verdant Ranch, Oliver dismounted Flash and helped Felicity down outside the doors of a seemingly innocuous barn.

People had nodded knowingly at Oliver and only a few had glanced Felicity’s way, but not with any recognition that she saw. Hidden between two walls of hay bales was a cellar door, opened wide and steps that went much further than Felicity could see.

Oliver led her down, holding her hand as their eyes adjusted to the more dimly lit stairwell. Once at the bottom a few more steps took them to a large, heavy looking iron door. Oliver knocked and a slider a few inches above Felicity’s head pulled open. Oliver waved and the slider slammed shut. The echoing sound of it slamming was followed by then thump of a lock and then the door creaking open.

The room was probably quite large, but the crowd of people inside seemed to overwhelm the space. Black bar tables and stools lined the walls to either side and old wine barrels were scattered around the middle. There was a small band playing in a crevice to the back of the room, playing lively but not overly loud jazz music, a few ladies dancing out in front of them.

Felicity decided the room they were standing in must have been built as a wine cellar or a tornado bunker given its size and location.

‘So, does this look like your kind of fun?” Oliver asked, leaning in towards her ear, her hand still firmly in his grasp.

Felicity looked around the dimly lit room and nodded with a grin.  
It most certainly did.

Oliver walked her over a table not far from band and gestured for her to take the last stool. Felicity watched as he interacted briefly with people she was unfamiliar with. He introduced her only as “his friend”

When a hand was offered for her to shake, she shook it with a smile.  
“Megan,” she replied, eliciting a small nod of approval from Oliver.

Even if they didn’t recognise her face, her name was sure to be known and neither of them wanted to think of the repercussions such gossip would have.

“I’ll go get you a drink,” Oliver smiled, smoothing a hand down her back.  
Felicity smiled effervescently as she nodded her agreement.

* * *

  
“I told you this stuff was rough,” Oliver laughed as Felicity spluttered through her gin and soda, “it’s made by people around these parts and it can be pretty heavy to handle.”

“No, it’s good,” Felicity choked over her words, the burning sensation still lingering down her throat.  
“Another,” she declared tapping the glass on the black table, garnering a cheer from the other men at the table with whom she had been cheerfully conversing over the course of the hour that they had been there.

She had told them she was visiting from Central City and had gone to school with Oliver, who had kindly offered to take her out for the evening. They didn’t ask any further questions and neither Oliver or Felicity offered any further insight into the matter.

It would be her third drink, Oliver still nursing his tame root beer.  
Oliver cocked his head to the side and raised one brow at Felicity.  
“Megan, are you sure you want another?” he asked through a grin.  
“Absolutely,” she replied, pulling him by the lapels of his shirt and placing a rough kiss against his lips.

Oliver pulled away quickly, fully aware they were in a public place and, despite the backstory Felicity had constructed, the room was full of eyes that might know different.

“Last one,” Oliver announced as he and another man from the table made their way across the room to the bar.  
“She’s a real spitfire of a lass ain’t she,” the man, Oliver knew from a few farms over, commented.  
“She most certainly is,” Oliver replied, stealing a glance back towards the table where Felicity was idly tapping her hands along to the music.  
“A girl like that is the type a man would be lucky to marry. Right proper on Sundays, anything but proper on Mondays if you know what I mean,” he chuckled, without a hint of malice or sleaze in his words, the saying meant as a compliment.

Oliver knew what the man was alluding to – a girl like Felicity had all the social graces of a girl you could proudly tout on your arm at church, but behind closed doors you would do things with her that would make even the liberal folks blush.

Thinking about how the round of her ass felt in his hands and feeling of her lips pressing against his, Oliver couldn’t help but imagine how truthful that might be.

* * *

  
Felicity tapped idly along to the music, barely noticed when a figure slid onto the chair next to her.  
“So Oliver brought his little pet,” an unfamiliar female voice spoke, close enough to Felicity’s ear for her to hear it.  
Felicity turned, her eyes falling on a familiar face.  
“Good evening Laurel,” Felicity sighed, severing the contact by turning her head back around, they had no reason to converse as far as Felicity figured.

“This place must be a huge shit heap for you,” Laurel continued, sipping back on the drink in her hands.  
“I don’t judge based on things like that,” Felicity replied, shifting in her seat.  
“That’s because you’re better than the rest of us” Laurel laughed, her softly curled hair bouncing lazily off her bare shoulders

“I don’t know why you have a problem with me Laurel, I’ve never done anything to you. You should just go back to pretending I don’t exist like when we were kids.”  
“Well we ain’t kids anymore, least I’m not, you still are, following Oliver around like you have some silly little crush on him.”

Felicity bit in against her lip, holding back the words she wanted to say – _is it still a crush when he’s half naked, kissing you with his hands up your dress, because that’s what we were doing tonight…._  
She smiled to herself as she thought it, but her lips stayed tightly closed over the words.

“You should just go back to your perfect little life and your perfect little family and leave us poor folk alone,”  
_It’s okay Laurel, I’m not here to steal any of your customers_ Felicity smiled at her thoughts.

“I know we aren’t friends, so please don’t pretend you know anything about my life,” Felicity replied, her tone growing harsher with each word.

Felicity may not have known the whole story as it related to Laurel and Oliver, but in her mind she placed the blame solely on Laurel’s shoulders. Felicity had decided that if Tommy hated her and Oliver couldn’t bring himself to call her a friend, then she must be a right horrible person now and her tone, for that reason, she felt was justified.

“Let me guess you come back here and think that pretty little head of yours has everything figured out. Not everyone is afforded such blissful naivety as you, daddy’s little princess,” Laurel scathed, tipping the rest of her drink into her mouth.

Felicity could see the venom in her eyes, but couldn’t quite understand it. This seemed to be about more than just Oliver. Laurel’s words came from a much more bitter place.

“Laurel, let it be,” Oliver snapped, a hand laying atop Laurel’s shoulder.  
“Aww, look at Oliver, always the loyal one,” she smiled, her eyes watching Felicity as she dragged her fingers down Oliver’s arm.

“You got no reason to be here talking with her,” Oliver replied, jerking his arm out of her reach.  
“Don’t worry Oliver, I keep my word,” Laurel smirked, sliding off the chair and disappearing into a crowd.

“Are you okay?” he paused, looking at her eyes as he placed the cup on the table, “did she say anything?”  
“No, not of any consequence, but I get the feeling like she could have,” Felicity spoke, her eyes watching as Oliver’s left eye twitched ever so slightly, there was something he was keeping from her.

“I think I need some air,” Felicity announced hopping down from the stool and lightly pushing passed Oliver.

The same large door opened for her to leave and with Oliver following close behind she ran up the stairs and out through the barn.

“Felicity wait,” Oliver called as she broke out into the night air.  
“I just want to leave Oliver, go back inside, enjoy the rest of the night,” she sighed, walking backwards into the thickening night.  
“Well for a start, that’s the wrong direction,” Oliver smiled softly.  
“Point me in the right one then,” she huffed loudly.

“Felicity, if you want to leave, I’ll take you home, but I ain’t letting you walk home in the pitch dark,”  
“I don’t want to go home with you, because I want to ask you what it is you’re not telling me, but I can’t because I don’t want you to have to lie to me,” she spoke, taking two steps towards him.

She watched as Oliver’s back stiffened and his brow weakened, there was definitely something he was holding back from her.  
“I don’t want to make you tell me what it is Oliver, but I also can’t pretend like I know it’s nothing,” her hand touched gently against his face.

“I can’t shake the feeling that there is something that nobody is telling me,” she sighed, her hand slipping from his face.

Oliver caught her hand in his own.  
“There is a lot of things you don’t know Felicity, but I don’t want that between us, I’ll tell you anything you want to know as best I can.”

“What happened between you, Laurel and Tommy, you were friends once.”  
Oliver nodded towards the top of a small hill, out of earshot from the barn, but still dimly touched by the lights from it.

Felicity followed him and sat beside him as he sunk into the grass.  
“Everything was fine ‘tween us all, Laurel and I dated for a spell years back, but it wasn’t ever going to feel right so we parted, still as friends. About two years ago she comes to Tommy and me, tells us she’s pregnant, that dad is a known man, married with a family and he won’t acknowledge her child. Told her outright that if she breathes a word he’ll deny it and no one would believe her.”

Felicity listened to each word as it came from Oliver’s mouth, 2 years back they were only 19. Felicity could imagine the stigma Laurel would have faced being unmarried and pregnant at 19.

“I told her I would marry her, she could say the baby was mine, save her the scorn of folk that would judge her otherwise. Tommy tried to talk me out of it, saying it was a fool’s notion that I would marry a girl I didn’t love for reasons that weren’t mine, but I thought it was the right thing to do.”

Felicity watched as the distant barn lights danced over the curves and angles of Oliver’s face, she could tell it didn’t take him long to realise it wasn’t the right thing for him.

“About three months before we were set to marry I found something that changed my mind,” he sighed, his eyes looking at the littering of stars in the black blanket of sky above them.  
“What was that?” Felicity ask, her hand lightly skating atop his, glad for the honesty that he was showing her.

“I found the last thing you gave me before you left, that silly little red and white terrycloth you’d wrap around biscuits every week,” Oliver glanced over at felicity, his eyes gazing a smile at her.  
“You kept it, all those years?” Felicity asked, surprised something so small and insignificant had held a place in Oliver’s life.  
“I did,” he blinked, almost embarrassed at the notion that he had kept something so trivial for so long, but her palm warm and flat atop his hand made him realise Felicity was touched by the gesture.

“It reminded me about all the times we spoke about our lives when we were grown, what we wanted and where we’d find it. A life with Laurel weren’t ever going to be what I wanted. I had tried to do right by her, but I couldn’t pay the toll for the rest of my life so I called it off. I don’t think Laurel ever forgave me for that, but there weren’t anything much she could hurt me with and I think she figured it had been Tommy in my ear that had changed my mind,” Oliver’s head dropped, his memory recoiling at the mess everything became after than moment.

“Tommy ain’t like other men round here, he’s my best friend and there ain’t nothing in the world that could change that, but not everyone round here sees things like that, there are folks that didn’t take too kindly to what Laurel told them, to spite Tommy.”

“She told them he was inclined t’ward men?” Felicity asked inquisitively.  
“You know ‘bout him?” Oliver asked, surprised at Felicity’s ease with it.  
Felicity shrugged, Tommy reminded her of one of the best jazz singers in a little fancy club not far from the new thriving musical theatre on Broadway.  
“I just assumed.”  
“And that don’t bother you?” Oliver asked.  
“Not in the least, no person can help who they love,” she replied through a soft and genuine smile, her eyes nervously blinking down at the end of her sentence.

“Some folk around here don’t see it like that. I don’t think Laurel meant for it to sour that bad, she ain’t a bad person, but they did a right number on Tommy. He spent weeks with Mam recovering. Mister Merlyn wanted nought to do with Tommy after word spread. He almost lost everything he’d worked for as a silversmith, he came out of it a strong fella, but he won’t ever forgive what Laurel did.”

It was clear to Felicity that the strong discord between the once friends had taken its toll on him, for all her faults it was plain to see Oliver had always tried to see the best in Laurel.

“So everyone in town assumes that you knocked up Laurel, got engaged and then left her?” Felicity questioned, now perhaps on the surface, understanding her mother’s distaste for Oliver.

She had always assumed it had been based on money and status alone, but this revelation has shone a different light on it.

“I let them think what they wanted, only a few knew the truth?” Oliver folded his lips into each other, it had been hard for him to accept the glares from almost strangers and worse still was the embarrassment his mother had felt over it.

“Your mam?” Felicity asked, holding back the strands of hair the wind was blowing across her face.  
“You don’t hide things from Moira Queen, she knew Henry weren’t mine. She never understood my reasons for staying silent about it, still she respected them, and has never breathed a word of it to anyone,” Oliver replied, his hands combing through a patch of grass to the side of him, his other hand turning upwards to entwine his fingers with Felicity’s.

Felicity mulled over everything Oliver had told her, but something was missing, there was one thing she didn’t understand.  
“Why didn’t you just say who the father was? A man that would cheat on his wife ought to be outed for it and judged, not you.”

Oliver sighed, his lips pulling inwards at the question, his eyes forlorn and brows drawn down.  
“I was protecting someone I cared a great deal for,” he replied, blinking only momentarily away from her gaze.  
“Who?” Felicity enquired, absently running her thumb across Oliver’s hand.

He looked down at the smooth movement her finger was making across his hand, how natural it felt and how much he would like to stop time in that moment. He blinked back up, catching her eyes, eyes filled with a kindness and a light that only Felicity could genuinely harness.

There was only one word on his tongue like there had been earlier when she asked him if he was leaving. Just one word, but it carried years of secrets.

Oliver’s hand reached out to Felicity, lightly cupping her face, his head twisted to look at her.

 _I was protecting someone I cared a great deal for._  
_Who?_

“You,” he breathed, watching her eyes as the light in them was replaced with confusion.  
“I was protecting you.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *’easy’ = shortened from ‘speakeasy’, secret bars used during the nationwide prohibition era (they were called this because you would have to speak quietly about such places in public so that they wouldn’t be discovered)


	10. With You

_You._  
_I was protecting you._

Felicity recoiled her hand back from atop Oliver’s. Her breath was stunted, two breaths in and a sharp exhale, repeating over and over. The thumping of her heart was deafening, rattling through her body like a freight train.

 _You._  
_I was protecting you._

The pain intrinsically linked to those words felt like a blunt knife being dragged across her wrist, ripping at the flesh painfully slow.  
Felicity screwed her eyes shut. She didn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it.

Her father, was not Henry’s father – he couldn’t be.  
“No,” she finally spoke, barely above a whimper, so soft was the sound Oliver was unsure he had even heard it.  
“No, you’re wrong,” her voice a little loudly now, her chin dropping to chest as she swallowed down the parade of lumps forming in her throat.

“Felicity, I’m sorry, but I ain’t wrong,” Oliver spoke slowly, his voice calm and low as he watched her body curl up, retreating into itself.  
“My father isn’t the type of man that would cheat on his wife, not with her,” she cried, pushing back the free flow of tears that were scaring fiery tracks down her cheeks as her arms wrapped around her bent knees, hugging them close to her body.

Watching her Oliver wished he could somehow take it all back, put Felicity back into the blissful ignorance of not knowing her father had a bastard child with a woman only a few years older than Felicity herself.

“Who told you this? Was it Laurel? How could you believe her?” Felicity ask, twisting her head as it lay atop her knees, her eyes searching Oliver’s for some discord, some reason to maybe doubt what he had been told.  
“Aye, Laurel told me, but…”  
“Well how can you believe her? She’s a whore for Christ’s sake,” Felicity shunned away from Oliver’s arm as he reached out to somehow comfort her.  
“No,” she shook her head fervently, “she’s lying, she must be lying, why would you believe that, why would you tell me that?” she snapped, stumbling backwards as she abruptly stood up.

“Felicity, it’s true, Laurel isn’t lying about this,” Oliver stood too, desperate to do anything he could to cushion the blow this revelation has caused.  
“How do you know? Why would you trust her,” she was almost yelling now, aware of her raised voice, but unable to quash it.  
“Felicity, please,” Oliver pleaded, desperate to hold her as he watched her entire body trembling.

“No, no, I don’t believe it, it’s not true and you’re a right fool for believing it and an asshole for telling me that,” she slapped out at his outstretched arm as a wave of panic and nausea set in.

“I wish it wasn’t true Felicity, I would give anything asked of me to make it so it wasn’t, but it is,” finally his arm touched lightly against her arm, her sweltering skin shivered under his touch.  
“How do you know?” she pleaded for an answer, for something she could refute.

She watched as Oliver’s lips twisted over each other, it was her heart breaking but it was destroying Oliver to be the one doing it.

He knew it was the truth, he had seen it with his own eyes and heard it with his own ears. He blinked his eyes at Felicity , he knew she wouldn’t let this lie until she knew it all and he had promised never to lie to her…..

**August 1922**

“It’s a good thing you’re not my type Oliver,” Tommy laughed as he lay on the cot and watched Oliver pad shirtless around the loft of the barn.

Oliver grunted an annoyed response as he pulled on a clean cotton shirt and proceeded to button it up.

Tommy kicked his feet off the cot as he sat upright his feet accidently tapping against the corner on a book pushed under Oliver’s bed. He leant down and slid it out.  
“Didn’t figure you much of a reader,” Tommy commented as he opened the cover and read the inscription

 _To Oliver,_  
_Happy birthday._  
_~Felicity_

“You never told me she wrote you back?” Tommy spoke, thumbing through the book.  
“It don’t matter much now does it?” Oliver huffed ripping the book from Tommy’s hands and setting it down on his drawers.  
“I bet she’s gorgeous now,” Tommy smiled, trying to elicit a response from Oliver.  
“And what would you know of it?” Oliver smirked pulling the brown suspenders over his shoulder and fastening them to his pants.

“I can appreciate beautiful things regardless, and given I wouldn’t be just staring at her boobs,” he laughed, cupping his hands and inch from his chest, “I can probably appreciate a pretty face more than most men.”

Oliver glanced over his shoulder at Tommy as he huffed a laugh, folding his sleeve up.  
“Ah of course, you’re more of an ass man,” Tommy smirked, outlining the curve of an ass in the air with his hand

“This is rightly the strangest you’ve been in a while,” Oliver shook his head, folding up the second sleeve.  
“You don’t think about her none?” Tommy asked.  
“Why would I? It ain’t nought to me what she’s doing,” Oliver replied gruffly.  
Tommy’s eyes narrowed, he didn’t believe his friend.

“Well, she is probably quite the looker, given the genes the girl is blessed with,” Tommy continued, ignoring the clear discomfort the conversation was heaping on Oliver.  
“I don’t give her much thought,” Oliver shrugged, slipping his feet into his loafers, “where’s Laurel anyway, didn’t she come with you?”

“She said she had business with Mrs. Smoak, I weren’t really listening, she talks a lot that one.”  
“Can’t imagine what that’d be like,” Oliver shrugged sarcastically.  
“Anyway, if I liked females, Felicity’s Mam would be up there, you must have thought about. Like mother like daughter.”  
“I’m pretending this conversation ain’t happening,” Oliver muttered.  
“You should write her,” Tommy spoke, folding on his black bowler hat.  
“Mrs Smoak?” Oliver gaped.  
“Well that’ll get you fired likely,” Tommy cracked a laugh, “I meant Felicity.”

“There ain’t no point, that book was all I got, she don’t need some hick from her hometown writing her. No more talk on it, right?” Oliver grunted, tired of the topic – Felicity’s lack of communication still confused him and it wasn’t something he liked to dwell on.

“I’m going to head up to the house, see if Laurel is ready to head out. You staying or coming Merlyn?” Oliver asked as he stomped down the wooden stairs of the lofted barn.  
“Right behind you,” Tommy sighed, dragging a finger across the book Oliver had so tersely thumped onto the drawers.

* * *

“I told you not to come to the house Laurel, you have no business here,” Noah snapped, dragging Laurel by the arm around the corner of the wrap around porch.  
“I had no choice, I needed to see you,” Laurel replied, fanning a hand down Noah’s unshaven cheek.

He stopped her hand with his own, pulling it from his face and placing it down to her side.

“I’ve written you plenty and you haven’t replied to me,” Laurel spoke with a bitter tongue.  
“You got no business sending get me letters, I’m married,” Noah retorted, his tone angry but his voice hushed.  
“You were married two month ago too, but it didn’t seem to matter,” Laurel snapped, purposefully raising her voice.

Noah’s eyes grew dark, his brow furrowed as he mulled over the moment she was so coarsely referring to. Donna had gone out to see Felicity, ranting about some trouble she had found herself in with Matilda. Donna had been flustered and annoyed that Noah wouldn’t journey with her at short notice.

Donna had left angry at him and he had been annoyed to the point he had nursed a bottle of bootlegged whiskey alone from mid afternoon till sometime close to 9 when Laurel had knocked on his door for a reason he couldn’t quite recall. His inebriated state and her young womanly wiles had lead to them engage in something Noah had not been proud of.

**~*~*~*~**

Oliver stopped short of the house, the moonlight catching something of interest on the porch a distance away. It was dark and they were at some distance but he knew for a fact it was Laurel speaking with Noah Smoak, a sight strange to Oliver given Felicity’s father had near on zero words to share with anyone that wasn’t business; and business wasn’t conducted on a dark porch.

Tommy, who had been talking the entire distance, stopped abruptly when he saw the same thing Oliver had.  
“Well now, that’s an odd sight,” Tommy muttered, delving his hands into his pockets.  
Oliver didn’t reply, but he was thinking the same thing.  
“I reckon I’d like to know what they’re saying,” Tommy smiled, darting off to the side of the house.

Oliver reached to grab his friend by the scruff of the neck, but Tommy ducked and headed straight towards a section of the porch around the corner from where Laurel and Noah were standing.

Oliver weighed up his options with a scowl before he decided to follow Tommy. He found him glued to the wall around the corner, crouched down, listening intently. Oliver couldn’t believe he was soon doing the exact same thing.

**~*~*~*~**

“That was a mistake, it shouldn’t have happened and I’ve told you that,” Noah replied, stern faced, walking precariously close to losing his temper.  
“But it did happen and I know I would treat you better than that wife of yours.”  
“Donna and Felicity are my life, you were a mistake.”  
Laurel rolled a hand over her stomach.  
“Felicity ain’t your only child, and maybe the one I’m carrying would be the boy you deserve.”

Oliver saw Tommy’s jaw fall open and the deep intake of breath he took. Fearing what would follow Oliver pushed his palm onto Tommy’s mouth, sealing it tightly.

“You’re pregnant?” Noah asked, distractingly calm Oliver thought.  
“Aye, with your child. If you leave Donna now, I can change the dates when it comes, fix it so it seems like the child came early.”

Noah paced a small circle in the path.  
“I won’t be leaving Donna, and Felicity is the only child I will publicly acknowledge as my own, there will be no more said on that. I will give you enough money to make a comfortable life for you and _your_ child somewhere other than Starling and this will be buried like the mistake it was.”

Oliver could feel Tommy’s hot breath against his palm, but he wouldn’t remove it for the world, there would be no way they could be found listening to this. Oliver’s first thought, he realised, was of Felicity and how this would destroy her if she ever found out.

“That ain’t enough, I want you to acknowledge me and this baby,” Laurel demanded.  
“I will deny it to my death bed and no one will take your word over mine. Think on my offer, it will last for a month.”

Oliver didn’t see Noah leave, but he heard the distinctive sound of the large front door closing with a thump, shaking the wall he and Tommy were pushed up against.

He heard the shuffling of feet coming closer but he couldn’t shift, his feet seemingly glued to the floor.

Laurel turned the corner and ran straight into the two eavesdroppers. She opened her mouth to scream in shock, but Oliver, with startling reflexes, spun her around the corner next to Tommy and pushed his hand up against her mouth also.  
“I’m going to take my hands off both your mouths if you promise not to say a god damned word and haul ass to the stables, got it?” Oliver asked, his eyes looking back and forth between Laurel and Tommy.

They nodded in unison before Oliver slowly drew his hands away.

Tommy clammed his mouth shut and Laurel swallowed the scream she had been about to release as they all walked hurriedly to the stables, Oliver instinctively glancing back towards the house to ensure no one had noticed them. His eye caught sight of Felicity’s old bedroom window and his heart sank imaging what her betrayal would look like if she knew what he did now.

“Is that true?” Tommy finally exclaimed as they reached the stable doors, he had been holding on to that question for what seemed like an eternity to him.

Oliver pushed Tommy inside the stables and gestured for a sour-faced Laurel to go inside also before he looked around again and then closed the stable doors.

Oliver lit one of the nearby lanterns and sat it at the table against the back wall. Laurel sat on one of the chairs, her arms folded bitterly around her chest. Tommy paced a circle a few feet away as Oliver stood propped up against one of the stall gates.

“Is it? Dear God tell me y’all are practising for some stranger than fiction stage show,” Tommy muttered, his hands gesturing wildly as he kept pacing.  
“Shut it Merlyn, it’s true alright, I’m carrying Noah’s child,” Laurel replied, sitting back into the chair, her lips twisting over her words.

“Are you some sort of idiot, why on god’s green earth would you go and do something like that?” Tommy snapped, a vein on his neck pulsing more rapidly now.  
“I said shut it Merlyn, this ain’t anything to do with you. I’m surprised you even know how babies get made,” she smirked across at him.  
“Oh that’s right, throw the ‘he likes boys’ jokes my way, good one.”  
“Shut up Merlyn, I’ve kept your little secret.”

“Stop arguing the pair of you,” Oliver gruffed, his tone boarding on angry.  
“He started it,” Laurel sighed, nodding towards Tommy.  
“You started it by getting knocked up,” Tommy retorted.  
“Stop, you two ain’t seven no more, enough,” Oliver snipped, stepping out into the middle of them.

“Laurel, are you, you know?” he nodded down towards her stomach.  
“Pregnant Oliver? Can’t even bring yourself to say the word?” she laughed, rolling her eyes, “yes, I am.”

“And it’s Mister Smoak’s baby?” Oliver asked, ignoring the snide comment she had made.  
“That you even have to ask me-“  
“Is it?”  
“Yes, it is. He and I were intimate a few months back. I ain’t some roadhouse whore like my sister,” Laurel answered, idly picking a hangnail from her thumb.  
“Yet,” Tommy quipped.

Laurel went to stand up but Oliver gestured for her to sit back down.  
“Shut it Merlyn,” he growled at Tommy.

“He’s married Laurel,” Oliver sighed, running his hands through his hair, his nails scratching against his scalp.  
Laurel shrugged a response.

“You best go take the man up on his offer and hightail it out of town,” Tommy remarked, returning to his slow pacing.  
“I’m not going anywhere, why should I?” Laurel huffed.  
“Because you’re 19 and knocked up by a married man who will deny you in a split second, did I mention he’s one of the most well respected men in town. You think your father will keep his job if you put this out in the open,” Tommy huffed.  
Laurel went to retort his rant before Oliver spoke up.

“Tommy, sit down and keep quiet would you, you ain’t helping,” Oliver sighed, kicking a chair toward Tommy who took it with a huff.

“Mister Smoak made a generous offer, maybe it would be best you think on it Laurel,” Oliver spoke, his voice low and calm.  
“You think I ought to hide away like I’m ashamed of it?” Laurel asked between pursed lips.  
“You should be ashamed over it, the both of you should. Mrs Smoak has always been kind to me and my family and you and yours. You speak up about this, he’ll deny it anyway and you’ll get nothing, but the rumour of it will hurt those people who didn’t have any hand in the matter, Mrs Smoak and Felicity, and that ain’t fair.”

Laurel sighed exasperatingly as she rolled her eyes.  
“Why does it always come down to that spoilt little princess, she’s not your pet anymore Oliver you can stop defending her. She forgot about you the instant she left.”

Oliver’s lips grew taut, she was trying to get a rise out of him, but he wasn’t biting.  
“Just think about the people you’d be hurting here Laurel, they ain’t done nothing bad to you.”  
“So what, I let people make up their own minds who the father is, let the rumours swirl around that for the rest of my life?”

“Tell them it’s me,” Oliver sighed, wiping his hand across his brow.

* * *

  **Early April 1924**

“We made an agreement with your Pap, he would pay her lodging and some extra, Laurel would tell people I was the father, I’d marry her and that would be that,” Oliver sighed, his head bowed low as he finished recounting the details to an almost silent Felicity.

“Even without me marrying her, she comes out looking better for it so she keeps her mouth quiet about it all, at least for now,” he finished, watching Felicity for any sort of reaction.

Felicity didn’t speak a word as she folded her arms around her waist and took a few steps further away from the light, heading nowhere in particular.

Oliver went to speak as he followed her into the thick dark night, but her words started before he had the chance.  
“Pap knows you know?” she asked, her back still turned on Oliver.  
“Aye, he does,” Oliver replied.  
“If he pays Laurel for her silence, what do you get in the deal?” she asked scathingly as she finally turned to look at him, the cold breeze catching loose wisps of hair glinting in the moonlight.

“I’ve never asked for anything Felicity, I only did what I thought was right,” Oliver replied, talking a step towards her, bowing his head low, his eyes trying to see hers.  
“You should, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch, he’d probably give you me to keep his secret shame,” she muttered, taking two more steps backwards into the night.

“Felicity, I don’t speak to the man’s motives, but I don’t think he meant to hurt you or your Mam,” Oliver spoke, closing the gap once more as he took one step forward.

“Don’t defend him,” she yelled, slapping an open palm across his arm.  
“I will never forgive him for this,” she cried, her once steeled front now crumbling around her. She blinked her eyes up at Oliver, the tracks of tears reflecting the pale yellow light of the moon, “and I won’t forgive you for keeping it from me then and telling me about it now,” she whispered, afraid of the anger that was boiling inside her.

She knew it wasn’t fair to blame Oliver and she saw it in his face the instant she spoke those last embittered words that he foolishly blamed himself too. It was cruel and it was unjust to hold him to account for this – she knew that – but right now Oliver was the one standing there, Oliver was the one who she could say these words to knowing that he would take them and not for a moment hold them against her.

“I hate him,” she stammered through the tears, clenching the fist at her side, she looked up at him again, standing in front of her, his eyes soft and his brow furrowed with concern, “I hate you,” she lied, punching her fist into his chest.

“I hate him,” she screamed louder, swallowing down the welling up from her stomach.  
She struck out at Oliver again, and a third time, landing each blow directly into his chest. He didn’t flinch and didn’t try to stop her.  
“I’m supposed to trust him,” she wept, landing another blow to Oliver’s chest as her knees began to buckle,  
“I hate him,” the tears flowed fast down her face, her voice weakening as she struggled for breath, her composure all but gone.

She hit Oliver again, feeling the release of her hands punching out against something that didn’t give back. She knew she could never confront her father like this, she knew she would never have the strength to tell her mother, but she needed to scream it, she needed to feel the hurt so it didn’t burn a hole inside.

“I hate him,” her voice trembled now as her knees gave way.  
Oliver caught her in his arms before she could fall to the ground. Holding her tight against his chest he watched as her whole body sobbed, her tears wet against his shirt, seeping through the tight weave of the fabric and her tiny balled fist bet gently against the front of his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, pressing his lips against her forehead, “I’m so sorry.”

* * *

  
Felicity looked up at her window in the darkened house as Oliver dismounted Flash and extended his hand to her.

“I can’t go in there,” she whispered, her soft voice carrying across the still air.  
Oliver sighed through parted lips, unsure of what to say, his eyes locked onto her drawn and broken expression  
“I don’t want to sleep in my room, knowing they’re so close, knowing he’s keeping something from her,” she whispered, pushing back the fresh tears that sprung from her eyes.

“Please Oliver, I can’t,” she pleaded, her lips quivering over her words.  
“I know, you don’t have to,” he replied, his hand stroking gently down her leg, anxious to sooth her.

He mounted back up on the saddle and gently rode away.  
“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” she whispered into his back as her hands folded in around him.  
“I know,” he sighed, one of his hands folding over the top of hers.

They rode back to the barn in silence, the first word only coming when they reached the doors and Oliver dismounted to walk Flash inside.  
“Thank you,” Felicity spoke softly, her eyes adjusting as Oliver set about turning on the nearby lanterns.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Oliver replied, his arms around her petite waist as he helped her dismount.  
“It was wrong for me to blame you, I didn’t really mean what I said,” she bowed her head softly, her hands grazing his against his chest as his hands stayed fixed against her waist, “I don’t hate you,” she finished, blinking her tear stained eyes up at him.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to apologise to me,” he smiled, fanning a hand through the nape of her hair.

He watched her face intently as a soft smile rose across it, her pouted lips just a shade pinker than normal and a light stroke of colour blushing back on her cheeks.

“Oliver,” she breathed his name softly, letting it pass slowly across her parted lips.  
“Mmm?” he hummed his response, his hand still caught up in her hair.

She nervously moved a finger across his shoulder, her eyebrows pulling inward as she tried to formulate the words in her head.  
“Can I stay with you tonight? I feel safe with you,” she whispered, embarrassed somewhat by the words coming from her mouth, but it was truly how she felt.

A gentle lingered kiss on her forehead was answer enough as she leaned into it, allowing the simple gesture to fully envelope them. 

* * *

 

Oliver lay a blanket over the hay bales he had tirelessly pushed together to form a bed. He had offered her the cot in the loft, but there would be only room for her and so she shook her head in response to that suggestion.

“Do you have something I could sleep in?” Felicity asked before splashing water onto her face from the washbowl Oliver had filled for her.  
“I’ll see what I have,” he smiled, disappearing up the stairs to the loft above.

Felicity caught the cloth he instinctively threw down to her and slowly patted her face dry.

He returned a few moments later with a pillow and another blanket tucked under his arm. He pulled the clean tan cotton tee from his shoulder and held it out to her. Felicity took it with a gracious smile, feeling the freshly laundered shirt through her fingers.

She slipped in behind a shoulder high wall of bales, her eyes watching over the top as Oliver carefully laid the pillow on one side of the makeshift bed and lay the second blanket on top of the first.

“If my father pays Laurel an allowance, why does she work, uh, like she does?” Felicity asked, pulling down the zip under her arm, the sound of it strangely echoing through the barn.

Oliver tired to focus on her words over the deafening sound of Felicity’s slowly drawing down her zip as he sat in the corner of the bed.  
“If you ever get an answer from Laurel, I’d love to know myself. Tommy says she does it for the attention, I might rightly agree with him.”  
Felicity smiled as the placed her folded dress on top of the bale before reaching around her back and unclipping her bralette.

Oliver swallowed down a forming lump in his throat as he kept his eyes low and focused on his feet. He swore he could hear each movement she made feet away behind a wall of hay. He glanced at his hands slowly rolling his palms across each other as he called to mind how soft her skin felt when they had let raw insatiable instincts get the better of them.

Felicity pulled Oliver’s shirt over her head and let it fall around her body as she threaded her arms through the sleeves. It billowed around her small frame and grazed slightly against her pebbled nipples. She took a deep inhale, filling her lungs with the warm sticky air around them, before she stepped timidly out from behind the wall.

She had felt confident and brazen when stepping from the tub some weeks ago, but with his eyes now free to linger on her, Felicity felt more exposed to him now than she ever had before. She watched as his eyes slowly walked up her body, blinking faster as they reached the hem off the tee, skimming lightly over her mid thighs.

Oliver gulped down another lump hitched in his throat, seemingly seconds after the last, as he tried to drag his eyes away from her. With every fibre of his being he wanted to touch her, feel her soft skin against his hardened palms. He wanted to take her lips on his own, caressing them softly with his tongue and memorise ever slight move they made, but as his eyes trailed up to her face and he saw the etched in sadness in her eyes he knew that wasn’t for tonight.

She felt safe with him she had said, so whatever carnal desires his body had he would deny them tonight. He would hold her, make her feel safe, however she needed him to.

“We should get some rest,” he spoke softly, walking to the other side of the bed, taking a brightly lit lantern with him.  
Felicity walked quickly on her tippy-toes until she reached the bed and slipped her body between the two blankets, Oliver mirroring that action before he tugged his singlet over his head and lay it down beside the bed.

Felicity felt her mouth dry at the sight of his body, the orange glow from the lantern making the definition more prominent. She could feel her fingers extending to draw closer you him, instinctively longing to touch him, but her heart was heavy with a sadness that she knew would mar anything else.

She lay her head down on the pillow and sighed softly, folding her hands underneath her chin as the room went dark and she felt Oliver lie down behind her, his body close but not touching.  
“Oliver?” she asked into the still and dark room.  
She felt his warm breath against the back of her neck as he hummed a low response.  
“Could you hold me tonight and not think poorly of me for it?” she questioned softly, her eyes fluttering against her blushing cheeks.

She felt Oliver slide closer toward her and felt the warmth of his body pushed up against hers. His fingertips danced down her arm, trickling goosebumps along behind it.  
“I could never think poorly of you Felicity,” he whispered against her neck, his warmth dewy breath sending a wave of pleasure fluttering down her body.

She molded her body in against his as his hand rolled under her arm and settled around her waist, tucking his fingers in tightly under her hip.  
“Goodnight Felicity,” he spoke, his lips pressed against the silken smooth curve of her neck, “rest easy,” he added, just above a whisper.

“Thank you Oliver,” Felicity smiled, lacing her fingers into his.  
“For what?” Oliver asked, his nose nuzzling into her tresses.  
“For just being you,” she replied, letting her tired eyes close softly, “for you,” she whispered atop an exhale.

* * *

  
Morning came too soon as the sun penetrated through the gaps in the planked walls. Felicity blinked incessantly at the intrusion and smacked her lips together softly, followed by an almost silent yawn as she adjusted herself to the early morning wake up.

As her eyes slowly opened and her vision became clearer she noticed the firm, muscular wall of Oliver’s back, so close to her she was certain if she poked her tongue out she could lick him. Her arm was propped up on him, her hand mindlessly stroking patterns on his back.

The sight of it all coaxed a sweet smile across her pouted lips.  
She was lying with Oliver.  
She was safe and happy with him.

 


	11. Cocktails at Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is long, get comfy... but I was told never to apologise for long, so sorry not sorry?
> 
> Also I pulled out my 1920s slang book for this chapter, what a hoot...
> 
> Xox

Felicity didn’t want to move, in case her movements stirred Oliver from his sleep and broke this restful moment. She was surprised he was still asleep as she watched the back of his shoulders slowly rise and fall with each breath he took. He had told her he barely slept past dawn as there was _“little reason to stay in bed”._

She looked around the barn, her eyes soaking in the view of the area from a different angle than she had ever thought to notice before. Looking over the ridgeline of his back she could see up into the lofted area, it was small, but he lived there content with what he had, it took her a few moments to realise that she would be content with it too.

As a child she had been given whatever it was that she had asked for, that was normal to her, it had taken her probably far too long to realise that not everyone was afforded the same things in life that she was. And yet, lying on the stiff bed of hay, staring up at the pitched ceiling and the tired wooden walls of the little barn with Oliver’s cotton shirt floating loosely around her body she felt the happiest she had in years.

There was nothing to be expected from her. No breakfast in the parlour – as Aunt Matilda liked to call it – no lessons to attend, no parties to feign interest in. There was just the lingered scent of hay and the whispered chirps of birds in the distance.

Felicity pushed her lips against his smooth back, unable to resist the temptation for a minute longer. He barely stirred as she nestled in closer toward him, feeling the warmth radiating off his body and the musk scent of him dancing across her senses.

She decided in that moment there was nothing more to be said on the matter. Oliver would be her first. She would not truly start living until she had felt his hands on her and she had felt his body beneath her hands.

Felicity’s tongue folded over her bottom lip as she allowed her imagination to dwell on it. Her hand twitched just above the surface of his skin, desperately wanting to trace across it but nervously reluctant to do the same.

She perched up on her palm and peered over his body. His eyes were shut, his dark lashes fanned across his skin. His lips were poised, a hair’s width apart from each other, his lush bottom lip making the smallest of quips as he breathed in and out. His cheek was hollowed and his jaw flexed ever so slightly seconds after his lip made a quip.

She bit her lip inwards as her eyes trailed down his body, taking in each and every inch they worked, downward till they reached the waistband of his pants, sitting just above the blanket line. She felt herself gulping down saliva that filled her mouth as her eyes lingered on the blanket and what might lie beneath it. Her fingers walked down the curve of his back before she adjusted herself and sat up next to him, careful not to jostle him awake.

Once her fingers reached the hem of the blanket she pinched it between her thumb and forefinger and, scrunching up her face, she slowly – painfully slowly – lifted the blanket and tilted her head so she could peer down the blanket tunnel.

Her eyes widened as she saw what she had been looking for but was nevertheless surprised by. Oliver was sporting a very pronounced _morning salute_ – a term she had heard from Macie back in New York

She took in a sharp intake of air as she stared down at it. It was much larger than she had expected it to be and she was unsure whether she should be excited or terrified at the prospect. Instinctively she felt her thighs close in against each other, her ankles locking over before a smile sprung across her face.

“ _They say size don’t matter, but if the spoon can’t reach the bottom of the ice cream cup it ain’t going to be much fun,_ ” she heard Macie laughing the words in her head  
She hadn’t understood the illustration then but looking at Oliver’s tented pants now, she was certain she could appreciate the value.

“Are you alright?” Oliver’s croaky voice broke through her daydream.  
She almost leapt three whole feet in the air as she dropped the blanket and scurried away from Oliver.  
“I’m fine. Are you fine?” she stammered, before biting in her top lip.  
“Aye, I’m fine,” he yawned, before settling on a perplexed expression he shot her way, “you seem a little jumpy.”

“No, me, no, I’m fine,” she bobbed her head around, she realised in a far too energetic manner, but she was unable to stop herself.  
“A’right,” he smacked his lips together as they formed over another, smaller, yawn.  
“Did you sleep well?” she asked, letting her eyes finally look down at him.

He smiled as he lay looking up at her, his hands crossed behind his head elbows pointed outward.  
“Aye, I did,” he spoke the words softly, as he swallowed down many more he didn’t know how to say.

“Oliver, I want to,” Felicity started, pausing awkwardly on her words, completely unaware how one might formulate such a request as she had – _I want you to be the first man I have sex with_ just didn’t seem very befitting of the circumstance.

He was looking up at her, his almost pearlescent blue eyes reflecting the mid-morning sun with a luminescent clarity.

“I want us, you, I want you,” she huffed, internally quipping that this should be the type of thing they teach at boarding school, it would be more useful than cross-stitch.  
“I think, no, I know, I mean, I want,” she took a breath.  
_Just say the words Felicity_  
“I want-“

“Shit,” Oliver exclaimed, suddenly realising the brightness in the barn meant it must be mid-morning, meaning he was late to start work on the Ranch.  
“Shit,” he mumbled a second time, throwing the blanket off him as he stood from the makeshift bed and Felicity crawled to the edge to follow him.

He turned around swiftly, his crotch now directly in line with where Felicity’s face was hovering – Oliver completely oblivious to the still very prominent morning salute his engorged member was sporting.

“Oh God,” Felicity gulped, her eye line now directly pointed at the tightened inseam of his pants as it tented across his erection.

Only then did Oliver look down and see what Felicity saw.  
“Shit,” he cursed for a third time in the span of a minute as he turned his back on her and sheepishly tried to jostle his shaft down between his legs.  
“I, uh, I have to go,” he said, his back still toward her as he leaned over and collected the singlet he’d discarded the night before.

In one fluid motion he folded the same over his chest before he slipped his feet into his untied boots a few steps away.  
“Stay as long as you want,” he mumbled, internally cursing his manhood as he walked, barely dressed and dragging his laces along the ground, towards the door.  
“Oliver wait,” Felicity called out before he reached the door, an awkward squeal in her voice.

Oliver stopped, but didn’t turn around, aware his bulge was still well-pronounced.  
“Could I see you this afternoon? There is something I want to ask you,” she smiled to herself, smoothing her hands idly down her folded arms.

“I can meet you half one, by the stables, I need to clean down the gear,” he replied, in a tone that was equally as unusual as her little squeal.  
“Alright, half one by the stables,” she smiled as she watched him stumble out the door, one foot now halfway out of the untied boot.

Felicity’s hands went straight to her face and blanketed over the grin that was fast forming across it. She giggled into her palms in a mixture of nerves and sheer embarrassment. She fell back onto the pillow, her hands still pressed up against her face as her giggle became more of a belly laugh she had absolutely no control over.

That whole exchange had been borderline mortifying, and yet, she had woken up next to Oliver so it certainly wasn’t all bad.

* * *

  
Felicity couldn’t stop smiling to herself as she rounded the porch of the house, her hand reached for the door handle and the sudden rush of the secret Oliver had told her came flooded back into her brain.

Her smile was swiftly replaced with an almost scowl. Her father had sired a bastard son with a woman who had always taken exception with Felicity’s existence, he had reprehensibly cheated on her mother and he had allowed Oliver to take the fall for it, the process of which had tarnished his name – and she was supposed to bite her tongue and act like she didn’t know any one of those things.

Noah Smoak was the cornerstone of that family, the pillar of the only legacy Felicity ever knew. Although he was not always forward with his affection or candour he was the one constant in Felicity’s life that she had always thought infallible.

She had been wrong. He may have been many a thing, but Felicity now knew two things for a surety, one he was not infallible and two she would never forgive him.

She opened the door and stepped inside the house, a sudden surge of anger stealing whatever was left of her good mood.

“Felicity Megan Smoak, where on earth have you been?” she heard her mother before she saw her running at a breakneck pace into the foyer, “I’ve been worried sick about you, you weren’t in your room this morning.”

“I went for a walk,” Felicity shrugged, her tone low and expressionless in case she gave away her true whereabouts.  
“In your boarding school uniform?”  
Felicity looked down at the grey number she had redressed herself in down at the barn, leaving Oliver’s shirt neatly folded up on his cot.

“It’s comfortable,” Felicity lied, her eyes staying down, unable to look her mother in the face.  
“It looks like you’ve been sleeping in hay,” Donna quipped pulling some pieces of straw from Felicity’s unkempt hair – which she now realised she had neglected to even try and tidy up.

“I did, I was tired, I lay down in the stables,” she briefly smiled, this lie was getting more ridiculous by the minute.  
Donna shook her head in an exasperated manner.  
“I won’t even pretend to understand you when you do odd things like that,” Donna remarked before turning and walking away.

Felicity expected more questioning from her mother, but she would have been remiss not to notice that Donna seemed a little stirred up and preoccupied. However the longer Felicity stood there and mulled it over the more chance she gave Donna to return with a string of questions Felicity was ill prepared to answer.

She glanced across the foyer to the grandfather clock that rattled a deep thrumming with each tock it took. It was half ten, meaning she had three hours to discover a way to ask Oliver to be her first.

Felicity could hear her father’s deep voice rumbling low through the walls of the house, his conversation centred around something he was reading in the paper by the sound of it as, she guessed, he sat in the parlour eating a late breakfast. She was famished and she could smell the delicious scent of eggs, but she couldn’t stand to see him, her tongue was in no state to be held.

* * *

  
Felicity smoothed down her lightly damp hair, pulling it low at her nape and securing it tightly with a cream ribbon, wrapped over itself twice and tied tightly, the ends falling softly down her back.

Her fingers danced along the soft v-shaped neckline of the light cream cotton dress, beautifully decorated in hues of yellow and orange fine floral-embroidery across the chest and down the skirt, the tight weave of the dropped waist smocking sat perfectly over her hips offering just a glimpse of her figure underneath.

She had managed just a nibble for lunch as her stomach twisted nervously over itself. She wanted to be with Oliver, really _be_ with him, whether tonight or in a month’s time or more, it didn’t matter, she knew she loved him and for that reason she wanted this, without a hint of reservation. It may have seemed an odd choice to tell him so rather than to let natural progression take its course, but Felicity wanted Oliver to know that this was not a decision made mid throws of late night petting, she had made it in a completely lucid state of mind.

She pulled back the soft netting over her window, it was almost half one, Oliver would be meandering up to the stables any minute and she couldn’t wait a minute more.

After one final silently encouraging smile in the mirror she made her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

She stopped on the third step to the bottom as she saw the front door open and a hustled gathering of people forming out on the porch.

Curiously she tiptoed her sandaled feet towards the chorus of strangely familiar voices.

“There you are dear, come on, come on,” Donna, dressed in a sweeping dress that seemed far to regal for just after noon, spoke as she ushered Felicity out the front door.

The coincidence of it all couldn’t be more impeccably timed if it had scheduled that way, with Felicity stepping on to the sunlit porch just as she caught sight of Oliver walking up the hill in her peripheral and she came almost directly face to face with the perpetual scowl of dear Aunt Matilda.

“Have you forgotten your manners already Felicity, ladies don’t gape their mouths,” Matilda smiled tersely  
Felicity closed her delicately pink lips, forcing a practiced smile to form across them.

“Your Aunt decided to surprise us all by coming two days early,” Donna flustered, nervously adjusting Felicity’s hair.  
“Well we couldn’t wait a moment longer to come visit,” Matilda smiled, Felicity assumed sarcastically, but with Aunt Matilda it was hard to tell.

“We?” Felicity asked, swatting Donna’s hand away from her hair before glancing to her left where she saw Oliver stopped in the near distance, his hat pulled low on his head and he hands stretched deep in his pockets as he watched this family reunion unfold less than 100 feet away.

“I’ve missed you moll*,” a frightfully distinctive voice spoke to Felicity’s near right.  
She blinked her eyes heavily.  
_It couldn’t be…_  
“You look a dish,” a hand touched her arm.  
She was squinting toward Oliver.  
_This wasn’t happening_.

The same hand ran around her neck, guiding her head, against her wishes, towards the deep, hot breath now beating against her neck.

She turned with a furrowed brow and cringed lips.  
_Oh god._  
_It was him._  
The _phenomenally boring Ray Palmer_ was stooping down to kiss her cheek.  
“Mister Palmer, what an _irregular_ surprise” Felicity smiled, pulling back enough to politely sever the contact he had started

“Moll there is no need for formalities,” he chuckled gratingly as he wrapped his arm over his shoulder and pulling her against his chest.

She would have stomped his foot with her own there and then if a lifetime of manners hadn’t been hammered into her since childhood. Catching her mother’s almost terrified expression and with what she had learned last night Felicity couldn’t stand to embarrass her.

“Forgive me for my bluntness but I’m unsure why you have travelled with my Aunt to Starling, Mister Palmer.”  
“Ray,” he gingerly smiled.  
“Ray,” she forced a smile, “the question remains.”  
“Your Aunt requested a travel companion and I thought I’d ride the rattler* and get a slant* at where my best kitten grew up.”

Felicity desperately wished she could see Oliver’s face right now, but his hat was low and the distance too much to tell any more than he must be able to see all of this unfolding.

Matilda’s eyes followed the path Felicity’s took, stopping on the dusty looking farmhand that seemed to have Felicity’s undivided gaze.  
“Are we to stand on the porch all day, or will you be inviting us inside dear sister?” she asked, dipping her hat covered head toward the house.

Felicity watched her mother nodded fervently as she gestured them all inside.  
“I’m sorry, I have plans already for the afternoon,” Felicity announced, just thinking up the excuse then.  
“You do?” Donna asked, twisting her head to avoid the heated glare radiating from her sister’s eyes  
“Yes, with him, uh, Oliver,” Felicity almost clapped her hands in glee at the excuse she was formulating in her head as she pointed an outstretched arm directly at Oliver – who finally looked up.

She saw the instant look of _don’t bring me into this_ pulling across Oliver’s face. She was sure he was going to give her a right telling to after this, but if it got her out of spending another minute next to the gargantuan bore then she would gladly accept it.

Felicity smiled with her head dropped to her shoulder and her eyes pleading for back up as she waved Oliver over. She saw his chest heave at the impending discomfort but dutifully he walked the distance between them and stood at the bottom of the stairs from her.

Felicity was trying to avoid everyone’s gaze at this point, she could feel her mother’s burning a hole in the back of her head, her Aunt likely wishing for the ground to swallow up such an incorrigible girl as herself, Ray’s likely half gangster, half _but I’m rich glare_ and of course Oliver’s _I will not let you live this down_ smirk and raised brow.

 _But needs must_ Felicity decided, and all stares aside she was not lunching with Ray Palmer if she could do anything in her power to stop it.  
“So I’m terribly sorry I can’t stay, but we promised Tommy we would help him at the store,” she bumbled over her words, a finger catching the hairline along her forehead, she had never been a particularly good liar.  
“We did?” Oliver asked, strangely enjoying the glare she instantly shot him.  
“Yes, silly, we did. With the stock take thing in his shop, have you forgotten Oliver, how dreadful of you,” she half smiled, holding her lips.

“Well maybe Ray could join you,” Donna piped in.  
“Yes, that would be swell, if a kicker like your _friend_ Oliver doesn’t mind,” Ray rocked on the heels of his black polished loafers a death stare shot Oliver’s way.  
“I’m sure he doesn’t, do you Oliver?” Donna spoke through gritted teeth, her thoughts on the farmhand set it stone.

Oliver’s eyes moved quickly between Felicity and her mother, both sets of eyes scowling at him waiting for two very differing answers. Rock meet hard place.  
“Uh no, I surely don’t ma’am, but..” he started, trying not to laugh at Felicity’s pouted look of betrayal.

“But you can’t, no room, terribly dull work and you must be exhausted,” Felicity rattled off her words, punching a little fist into her open palm nervously.  
“I slept on the train,” Ray replied, wrapping his arm over Felicity’s shoulder.

She cringed at the contact as she saw a flinch in Oliver’s brow, his playful smile now washed clean from his face.  
“Of course you did,” her nose screwed up as she bit against her bottom lip.  
“I could journey into town,” Ray pulled his arm tighter around her shoulder as she tried to muscle herself away.

Felicity swallowed the wave of nausea forming in her throat as she pushed back against him, her palm flat against his solid chest until he loosened his grip.  
“It’s settled then,” she stepped, defeated, down to the bottom step where Oliver leant in, catching her arm instinctively – an action not unnoticed by those eyes taking stock.

“Tommy ain’t at the shop,” he whispered as close to her ear as he could appropriately get.  
“He’s not?” she replied with one brow raised  
Oliver shook his head, “he’s two towns over setting up a business deal.”  
Felicity huffed a loud exhale as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of peach.

“Seems I have my days mixed up,” she sighed behind half a smile.  
“Good, tea in the sitting room then, I’m sure Oliver here has work to tend to,” Matilda announced, pushing Felicity back towards the house.

“No, Oliver, please join us,” Felicity pleaded, her eyes wide with expectancy.  
“I’m sure Oliver would find it a trite use of his limited time before he gets back to his employ,” Matilda’s words finished with a smirk, “goodbye Oliver.”  
It was a smirk Felicity thought about slapping right off her sour face.

“Ma’am,” he tipped his hat and backed away, the very clear class distinction Aunt Matilda had alluded to was not lost on him.

Felicity watched him leave with a heavy trepidation. This was not how she envisaged the day going.

* * *

  
Felicity found Oliver near on two hours later in the stables brushing down one of her father’s prized stallions.

“That was hideously painful,” Felicity smiled, stopping in the doorway, her hand tapping against the frame as her foot kicked the dirt in front of her.

Oliver glanced over his shoulder, gave a slight nod and returned to his low sweeping strokes down the horse’s back.  
“So that’s my Aunt, she’s a real peach,” Felicity laughed lightly, aware of the tension hanging low in the air  
She watched his head bob up and down twice in recognition of her words.

“Please don’t be mad,” she whispered, closing the gap between them as she wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her head softly against his back, finding peace in its soft rise and fall as he breathed.

She felt him sigh heavily as he placed the stiff horse brush on the stool to his left.  
“I ain’t mad at you,” Oliver replied, placing his hands on top of hers which were hooked over his belt buckle.

“A little warning might have been nice though,” he turned in her arms, running his hands up her smooth, bare arms, touching lightly against the slightly frilled sleeves of her dress.  
“She came a couple days early and I,” she blinked up at him, the concern written through her irises, “I didn’t know that she would be bringing _him,_ ” Felicity rolled her eyes on the last word.

“Are you going to tell me about _him?_ ” Oliver asked, with a soft smiled as his finger twisted around a fallen section of hair framing Felicity’s face.  
“He’s the dreadful bore from New York I told you about,” she replied, blinking her blue eyes in the piercing rays of sun pouring through the nearby open windows.

“A hideously tiresome investment banker from old money, my Aunt adores him,” she smiled mockingly, “but I can’t stand the man.”  
“He seems to be taken with you,” Oliver grinned, his lips hovering just above her earlobe, lightly touching against it with each word he spoke.

“He doesn’t know me, he likes the idea of me,” she replied, her tone tinged with sadness as her eyes looked around the stables.  
“I’m just bred from the right stock, a good name to be mixed with his. A dutiful wife who will turn a blind eye to his many indiscretions and throw lavish parties for the wealthy and elite to attend in Manhattan,” she spoke each word, realising she had almost described her mother, who she knew had been married off to her father, barely a year older than Felicity was now.

“You, a dutiful wife,” Oliver laughed softly, peppering a kiss across her cheek, “he really doesn’t know you at all, you’re a stubborn mare.”

Felicity feigned a hurt look as she pushed him backwards, his hand steadying himself against the white stool where he had placed the grooming tools, sending the brush falling to the ground.  
“Violent too,” he cracked a smiled.

“So he’s here because he thinks you’re courting?” Oliver asked as he bent down to collect the brush.  
“Apparently,” Felicity shrugged, dancing her fingers idly along the path Oliver’s lips had taken across her smooth cheek.  
“Well, where would he get that idea from?” Oliver questioned as he stood back up and started back at brushing the stallion.

“Well he did ask me to marry him, so I suppose that might be where,” she grimaced, screwing up her nose as Oliver glanced over his shoulder, masking his surprise.  
“And you said yes?” he asked, brushing over the same spot he had already done twice.  
“No, no, argh no, that man is a hellish bore, I said no such thing,” Felicity retorted, bracing her delicate hands against her waist, the semi sheer fabric of her dress silken against her palms

“So you said no?” Oliver continued with the questioning, brushing over the same spot after which the stallion let out a frustrated huff, kicking its hind hoof into the dirt floor.

“Yes, no, well not exactly,” Felicity replied, tapping two fingers across her lips as she tried to formulate her responses more articulately.

“What does not exactly mean?” Oliver asked, moving around to the other side of the stallion, watching Felicity over the horse’s back.  
“I mean I didn’t exactly say no, but I certainly did not say yes and I would like to think a question like that needs to be answered in the positive right? It’s not a ‘silence will be taken as acceptance’ type thing, is it?” she rambled, combing her fingers through her ponytail now, unable to keep them still for more than mere seconds.

“What did you say?” Oliver chuckled, his expression one of perplex.  
“I didn’t say anything, he asked, I laughed, and I mean laughed,” she imitated a full belly laugh, “and then I left the room. I boarded a train the next morning. I mean surely that has to be clear enough. Who could assume that means anything other than no?” she continued frowning like she had smelt something repulsive.

“It seems Mister Palmer didn’t get that hint,” Oliver smiled, amused by Felicity’s wide eyed expression.  
“This isn’t funny Oliver,” Felicity pouted, walking around next to him.  
“It certainly is,” Oliver replied his lips folded over a forming laugh.

“But this _him_ do I need to be worried?” Oliver asked, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone.  
Felicity leant up on her tippy toes, her body pressed against his as she smiled a softly pouted kiss against his bottom lip.

She pulled back a few inches, her eyes watching as his tongue slid across his bottom lip, savouring the taste and sensation her kiss had lingered there.  
“Does that about answer it?” she smiled, her voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled her tight against his chest, his arms skating tracks down her back as he stooped down and took her lips fervently onto his own. Felicity melted into the warm dewy pillow of his lips, feeling each slow caress his bottom lip charged against her top lip.

His hands fell to the small of her back, grinding her pelvis up and against him, pushing a heated gasp from her lips to melt onto his. Habitually she shimmied her body further up his, rounding her hips in slow circles which caused her budding heat to seek out friction against his swelling shaft.

Felicity’s lips grazed his bottom lip as she pulled her head slowly back, painfully slow. Her hand slowly moved down his shoulder, pressing in against the fabric to feel each dip and rise his defined muscles took. She wanted to touch him, her mind trailing back to the sight he cut this morning and her body twisting into itself at the thought of it.

She swallowed the hitch in the back of her throat, watching as Oliver instinctively mimicked, his fingers grappling against the soft cotton fabric, clenching in tight around the round of her ass.

If she let her raging body have any say on the matter she would beg him to take her right here and now and but her body would have to wait for now, the dirt floor of a horse stable in awkward broad daylight wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. No she would ask him tomorrow, after the ludicrously lavish cocktail party her mother was hosting – a day earlier now than originally planned.

She had the moment mapped out in her head, she would wait till then to tell him of her desires and they would find some way to be together – intimately – and she would see what that morning salute was made of.

“Tomorrow night,” she hummed against his lips, her hand grazing down his thigh, her thumb dancing close to the ridge of his brimming erection.

“What about tomorrow night?” Oliver sighed, twitching as her hand came dangerously close.  
“It’s a silly flash affair but will you come, as my guest, please?” she blinked her dark lashes up at him.

A look he could never say no to, despite the trepidation of such an event.  
“Invite your whole family to come, it would make my night you see you,” she pulled her soft pink lips inward, turning the corners up into a smile.  
“Well if it’s you asking.”

He leaned in to kiss his lips to hers when her name being shouted outside broken them instantly apart, their hands falling rigidly to their sides as Aunt Matilda appeared in the stable doorway.

“What on earth are you doing in this filthy place?” she spoke through pursed lips.  
“Just checking on my horse Aunt,” Felicity replied without turning her eyes away from Oliver.  
“Well, you have _people_ for that Felicity, come inside, its rude to be trapesing around while you have guests.”

“You brought him Aunt, that would make him your guest,” she leaned her head back to look around the back of the horse, just in time to catch Matilda’s scowl.  
“You forgetting your manners Felicity, this _place,_ ” she was staring at Oliver as the word spat from her lips, “is a bad influence on you.”

Oliver gestured his head ever so slightly towards the door.  
_Just go_ he mouthed with a smile.  
“Tomorrow night, cocktails at eight.”

Hidden by the stallion’s body she took his hand into her own and squeezed it gently.  
_Please_ she mouthed.

Oliver nodded as she dropped her hand and slowly slinked away, maintaining eye contact with him for as long as she could. Matilda ferried her from the stables, glancing back an ice stare at Oliver before she too left.

* * *

  
**Tuesday, 7:30pm**

It seemed like forever since Felicity had seen Oliver as they hadn’t spoken since yesterday afternoon. She had spent much of yesterday evening listening to dreadfully boring talk of gold shipments, taxes and the price of imported cigars between her father and Ray as her mother looked on nervously and her Aunt hovered around the room.

Ray had asked her to play something on the piano, but she had sweetly declined, advising that the meal had made her full and sleepy and that she was afraid such activity might cause her to have a fainting spell.

Ray had gingerly patted her head in response – like a puppy.

Felicity had not spoken a word to her father since Oliver had told her the truth about him. She had no words for him that wouldn’t see her mother recoil in horror and her Aunt drag her to the train station and back to New York at first light.

The day had been spent accompanying Ray around town, Aunt Matilda a step or two behind. Felicity would nod along politely as Ray rambled on about real estate and how Starling would be better if it only did this – or that – she couldn’t recall any details of what he had been saying, her mind only dwelling on one thing. Tonight she would tell Oliver what he meant to her.

She could hear the arriving guests downstairs and a fluttering of staff about the house, pulling together the extravagance that was a Smoak evening, where they spared no expense and every law official in town turned a blind eye to the free flow of liquor.

“Thank you, it’s lovely,” Felicity smiled as the housemaid straightened the crystal beaded headband that sat woven through Felicity’s pulled back blonde locks.

Her dark lined lashes fell softly against her porcelain cheeks as she slowly finished applying the rich red lip colour on her full lips. She smiled to herself, imagining Oliver’s lips against her own, smearing the precisely applied colour across his lips as his hands would travel through her hair gripping it tight against her scalp, pulling her closer into him, devouring her in unbridled throws of passion.

She caught her breath hitched and mouth watering at the thought of it as her heat stirred quietly under the opulent silver dress, the form of which stuck dangerously close to her curves and dipped seductively down her back, exposing a decidedly daring amount of skin. It was a dress that sung out to the decadence of New York’s roaring nightlife, a more elegant form of a flapper dress, its floor-skirting length adding the distinctive touch of class that set it apart from the shorter dresses synonymous with the vivid lifestyle.

It was stunning, worth more than many earned after months of hard labour, but all Felicity could think about what how amazing it would feel for Oliver to slowly peel it off her body, kissing each inch of skin he exposed in the process.

A soft knock on the door broke her from her spell as the housemaid opened it to her mother, a stunning vision in a dress not overly dissimilar to Felicity’s, but a much richer emerald colour matched with trails of black beading detail across the slightly dropped waist.

“You look beautiful,” Donna remarked, ushering the young housemaid from the room before gently pushing the door closed.

Felicity smiled graciously as she replaced the lip of her lipstick and placed it gently down on the vanity.

She looked back at her mother with a newfound sadness as she choked back the secret she now held on to.  
“I invited Oliver, and his family,” Felicity said quietly her hands stretched out on her lap as she sat on the padded floral stool.  
“Felicity I don’t…” Donna started.  
“I know what you think about him and I understand why you would think that if what people thought was true,” she blinked upwards, trying to mask the pain in her eyes as she delicately walked around the truth, “but it’s not, Henry isn’t Oliver’s son.”

Felicity wasn’t sure Oliver would have allowed her to leak that information, but she couldn’t stand to think that her mother thought so little of him through no fault of his own.

“I can’t tell you anymore or give you any reason to believe me and I begging that this goes no further Mam, but Oliver let Laurel say that to save her some face, please don’t think poorly of him, he’s still the same boy who would always catch a mouse for you if one came inside,” she felt a single tear roll down her cheek before she swiped it away.

Felicity watched as her mother bobbed her head slowly, a soft smile turning up at one corner.  
“I didn’t think that boy looked much like him,” she mulled as she patted down the pearl necklace draped low down her bodice.

“You’ve seen Henry?” Felicity asked, frightful of each word she said on the matter in case it avalanched on truth.  
“A few times with his grandparents, he doesn’t have Oliver’s strong jaw. Do you know who the real father is?”

Felicity looked down at the floor as asked forgiveness silently to whichever deity might be listening for the blatant lie she was about to tell.  
“No, I don’t, but please you can’t tell anyone of this. Oliver did it for good reasons and it’s his wishes it stay like that.”  
“I understand, no man would put his name through mud for trivial reasons. Now I’m here to ask something of you,” Donna smiled as she took a step forward, guiding Felicity to turn back toward the mirror as Donna carefully secured a bobby pin into Felicity’s hair.

“What might that be?” Felicity asked, watching her mother’s reflection in the mirror.  
“That you give Mister Palmer a chance, he’s journeyed a long way to see you,” she threaded another pin into Felicity’s tresses, “and he seems like a man of good station and character.”

Felicity watched her mother primp her hair as she spoke, there was so much she wanted to tell her mother, but she just couldn’t.

“I am nothing if not polite,” Felicity replied with a half-smile.  
“That’s a good girl, that’s all I ask,” Donna replied, kissing the top of Felicity’s head.  
“Walk me down the stairs?” Donna asked, gliding towards the door with an elegance Felicity had once admired as a child, but was now saddened by.

For all that poise and elegance, her mother trusted a man who didn’t deserve it.

“I’ll be down soon, I promise,” Felicity replied with another half-smile.  
Donna quietly left the room, pulling the door closed after her and leaving Felicity alone with her thoughts once more.

She wished she could tell her mother the truth and confront her father, but like Oliver had said that would only create more victims of this and right now that was not something Felicity was prepared to do to her mother.

And that was not for tonight anyway. Tonight was for Oliver and her. She traced her fingers over the necklace he had given her years before and put it around her neck. She smiled imagining his face when he saw it sitting like a soft silver beacon against her milky white skin, sitting low between her breasts.

She tucked the pendant under her dress, only Oliver would see it and only when the time was right. A last fleeting look and Felicity was ready.

* * *

  
Oliver saw her long before she noticed him in the crowd of people mulling around the opulently decorated foyer. He had heard the saying ‘ _take your breath away_ ’ but he had always assumed such an exclamation was an exaggeration until that very moment when his throat constricted, his heart lurched against his chest cavity as his fingers felt deftly numb.

In a moment he had forgotten how to instinctively breathe.

She was beyond what any words he knew could describe, ethereal, stunning, beautiful… they all seemed to fall short – even combined – of the vision walking down step by step, a delicate hand poised on the balustrade, barely touching a print to it as her eyes scanned the room, looking for something, someone.

Then her eyes met with his and the breath returned to his lungs and the feeling returned to his fingertips. A slight tip of her head before her lips turned up into a beautifully understated smile. He almost turned his head behind to ensure the smile had been meant for him, but any doubt was erased when he watched her deep red lips curved over his name. He was at too much of a distance and they were separated by a sea of people, but Oliver swore he heard the gentle whisper of her voice saying his name.

***~*~*~***

Felicity was almost at the bottom step, her path mapped out in her mind, being the shortest route to Oliver. She hadn’t a clue who were amongst the sea of faces she didn’t care to see as she finally placed a foot on the polished wood floor.

She strained her neck to try and see him above the shoulders of men taller than her when a hand took hold of her own and tugged her gently to the side.  
“Felicity, you must see the Smiths, they have travelled from towns over, despite your Aunt insisting everything planned be moved forward a day,” Donna smiled, though it was clear she was flustered at Matilda’s request, “the least we should do is thank them.”

“But I was…” Felicity replied, her feet slipping on the floor as she watched the distance between her and Oliver grow.  
Her mother stopped in front of an older couple, the man in a fine brown dinner suit, his wife sporting an almost excessive amount of jewelry.  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Felicity smiled, a practiced and perfectly charming tone carrying through her voice.

***~*~*~***

“She’s stunning isn’t she,” a peppy voice said from the left of Oliver’s shoulder.  
He turned his head in the direction, recognising the ‘incredulous bore’, as Felicity would call him, Ray Palmer, dressed to the nines in a perfectly pressed black tuxedo, a slick of dark hair held back with likely excessive amounts of hair tonic.

“She is,” Oliver replied simply, scouting the crowd around him for a polite exit – not a one presented itself.  
“This life suits her, such a beauty should be taken out, shown off, not hidden under hay and animal dander.”

Oliver felt the condescending slap of a hand on his shoulder. He flinched slightly, but he had more control then to be baited into a fight.  
“Felicity shines regardless of what she’s wearing or where she is,” he replied.  
“Well of course, but this life of fine things, it’s what she deserves, never having to wasn’t or worry for anything. This opulence bequests her. You never saw her in New York, but what a thing of beauty, to see her have everything she deserves in life, that’s what any man would want for her.”  
“Any man would want her to be happy in the form of her choosing,” Oliver retorted briskly.  
“To be happy in the form she deserves. Look around Oliver, she deserves all these things and more.”

Ray planted another heavy pat on the back of Oliver’s shoulder before confidently strutting through the crowd to where Felicity was.

Oliver watched from afar as Ray sidled up in between Felicity and her mother and slipped a rogue hand around her waist, settling in to her hip before he glanced back toward Oliver, a turned up smug smile in the corner of his mouth.

* * *

  
Oliver stared up at the vividly clear night as he leaned on the railing of a secluded part of the porch. He had managed to make a parting through the crowd and out the open front door, desperate for crisp breathable air and the quiet of the outside.

Ray had been right, Felicity looked perfectly in place amongst the wealthy and elite, she carried herself like she had being born into it, which Oliver was painfully aware she had been exactly that. She had never experienced the trials of not knowing where your next meal might come from and her delicately soft hands had never toiled in dirt – they shouldn’t have to.

“Oliver?” Moira spoke, a hand smoothing across his crisp white shirt.  
He managed a smile amidst his thoughts as she moved beside him, her back against the railing, her drawn eyes looking at Oliver’s furrowed brow.

“You’ve fallen for her haven’t you son?” she sighed rolling her palm over his shoulder.  
He blinked up at her, formulating some form of response, but only one word came to mind  
“Yes,” he said simply, dropping his chin to his chest and leaning into his elbows on the railing lip as the night breeze felt cool against his fiery cheeks.

“And you see what she has?” she spoke with a low and stoic tone, her hand still resting on his shoulder.  
“Everything in there is the finest something, its everything she deserves in life and I have no hope of giving her anything even close, but she would stay with me regardless and I would never stop feeling the shame of it,” Oliver replied his voice trembling over the truth he could feel in his words.

“You are by far one of the finest men I know, your father would be so proud of you, but there are some things in life, no matter how much we wish, we can’t change. What we’re born in to is one of those things,” her hand lightly pushed through Oliver’s hair.

“Don’t let her heart get any more invested in this Oliver,” she leaned in, placing a brief kiss on his temple before retreating back inside.

Oliver stood alone with his thoughts only a few minutes before he smelt the scent of fresh cut orange blossoms dancing across his palate. He would know that scent anywhere.  
“I’m sorry I stepped out, I just needed some air,” he spoke softly, his eyes drawn to the littering of bright stars across the cloudless sky.

“It’s okay, I understand it’s not really your scene in there, but thank you for coming,” Felicity smiled, gliding her body in close to Oliver’s as her palm slipped under his suspender.

“I just want you to be happy,” he spoke through a drawn exhale as he turned his head to face her, his body still stooped low against the handrail.  
“And I am,” Felicity replied, touching her hand to his shoulder and guiding him up to face her.

“You scrub up well,” she laughed tugging on the front straps of Oliver’s suspenders, pulling them up and letting them go to slap against his chest.  
“Tommy leant me them,” he shrugged, his sad eyes wandering across her body like it would be the last time.

“I know it’s stuffy in there and I look a right fool.”  
“You look beyond beautiful,” he whispered, his voice carrying softly in the still night.  
Felicity’s cheeks flushed crimson as she smiled through her dancing blue eyes.

“You should go inside, enjoy it,” he spoke wistfully.  
“I’d much rather stay out here with you, there’s something I,” she paused, folding her lips in on each other before her tongue lightly skated across the rouge stain.  
“Something I want to ask you,” she could feel her cheeks burning and her heart picking up its rhythm.  
_I want to be with you_  
She needed to push that thought aside for just a few more moments.  
“I’m also hiding from that dull lug, I think he means to ask me to marry him again,” she laughed, “apparently laughing and leaving the room last time was not clear enough, but don’t worry,” she tousled a hand playfully through his hair, “this time, I’ll be sure to say a very definitive no.”

Oliver’s lips pulled inwards and his eyes sunk to the ground.  
_Look around Oliver, she deserves all these things and more_  
_Don’t let her heart get any more invested_  
He had nothing to offer her.  
Ray had everything.

“Unless you don’t.”  
Felicity tightened her brow in confusion, a small smile peeking across her face, like she thought Oliver was playing some sort of joke she didn’t fully understand.  
“Maybe you shouldn’t say no,” his words were almost buried in his chest, but they were loud enough that she heard every single one.

“Oliver, what are you saying?” she asked, her hands dropping away from his arms, her eyes twisted in bewilderment.

He looked at her, holding back the tears forming in his eyes. She was everything to him, but he couldn’t take her down the path he walked, she deserved better, she deserved more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *moll = girlfriend  
> *rattler = train  
> *slant = look


	12. All We Have Is Now

**In a moment we lost our minds here**  
**and lay our spirit down**  
**Today we lived a thousand years**  
**all we have is now**

**~Run to the Water**

 

"If this is some kind of prank Oliver, I don’t understand it,” she whispered, frightful that it was anything but.

He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t meet her eyes as the next words fell from his mouth  
“He can offer you things I can’t.”  
“And you think that’s what I want? What I need? A house, clothes, you think any of that rightly matters to me Oliver?” her eyes narrowed on him, her voice strong but shaking in the emotion trapped in her words.  
“No,” he soothed, touching his hand gently to her cheek, wiping away a tear that lay there.  
“I know those things don’t matter to you,” he scooped her face upwards her eyes blinking tears at him.

“Then why are you pushing me away?” her breath hitched in the back of her throat, a small whimper spilling forth.  
“Because, it’s what you deserve, Felicity, everything great in that room, it’s what you should have in life,” Oliver spoke softly, his eyes dotted with forming tears, his voice shaking over each word.  
“That isn’t fair, to assume that just because of where I come from, that isn’t fair, that isn’t right,” she snapped, her head shaking after each word, her hand pulling his hand from her cheek.  
“I would follow you anywhere, I don’t need any of this,” she spoke as her hands skated down the front of her couture gown.

Oliver’s his face showed the pain of the moment, etched in each line across his brow as his eyes drew inward on each small quiver his pursed lips made.  
“I know you would and it would kill me to see you reduced to that. I watched my mother struggle every day through this life, to see you,” his hands cupped her face, the tears trailing down her cheeks spilling onto his hands, “to see you struggle would devastate me.”

She couldn’t speak as her breath became stunted, caught in the back of her throat as tears, tainted with mascara, drew black lines down her cheeks.  
“You will do great things with your life Felicity. Whether you marry him or not should be your choice, but you can’t settle for the bare things in life.”

She dropped her head down, but he drew it back up, his fingers lacing through her hair.  
“Loving me would be like taking the prettiest flower from the garden and planting it in an old boot, it ain’t right to do that and it ain’t right for me to hold you down.”

“You should see the world, experience everything it has to offer, I can’t give you that,” his hand was clutching her tightly, forcing her eyes to meet with his, the emotion deeply entrenched in every word he spoke.

“But I don’t want all that, I just want…” she paused afraid of her next words because saying them meant she could never deny or hide them again “I just want you” she breathed, afraid to look at him.  
“No, you shouldn’t want me, want for better Felicity.”

There was no malice in his words, no fault you be found in their genuine care. Oliver saw the world when he saw Felicity, she deserved to see no less than that for herself.

He pulled her sobbing body in close to his, desperate to feel her against his chest for what might be the last time.  
“Do great things,” he whispered against her temple, inhaling the sweet scent or orange blossom he had come to know well.

He slowly drew back his fingers caught up in her hair, dropped his hands from her face and unravelled his arms from around her body.  
“Live the beautiful and exciting life you’re destined to,” the words left his mouth as a whisper, just as a sudden flash of lightening skidded across the dark night sky.

Oliver looked back towards the sudden forming rain clouds, silently recognising the heavens would soon open up. With a pained expression and tear stained eyes he leant in and kiss her smooth cheek gently, lingering a few moments longer then he should.

Silently he pulled away his eyes keeping watch over hers. Felicity tried to speak, her lips folding over each word but unable to find her voice as she watched him walk away, taking her heart with him.

A sharp inhale pushed her backwards, her back slamming against the cold and hard wooden wall of the house. Instinctively she wrapped her shaking arms around her crumpled body as she slid down the wall, grazing her back against the splintered wood.

“But I love you,” she whispered into the damp air as a crack of thunder rung out across the sky and the temperature plummeted as the thick dark clouds opened their gates and rain spilled from above.

Oliver steadied himself not to turn around, not to look at her again as the rain drops beat heavy against the black tux he had borrowed from Tommy. Walking away from Felicity tore his heart in two, turning around to see her again would serve no purpose but to solidify the pain he felt deep inside.

She had done nothing wrong, never gave him any cause for offence, but to walk away from her now – he had decided – would offer her the best chance in life. She deserved what he couldn’t give her.

It was not her fault she was offered such things in life, she held no blame just as a foal holds no blame for its breeding. But a filly sired from the finest stallion was not destined to pull a lowly cart or to drag a plow through a field.

Oliver knew in his heart she had meant her words _“I would follow you anywhere”_ but he had also meant his _“to see you struggle would devastate me”_.

* * *

  
Felicity shivered, huddled on the floor with her arms tightly woven around her drawn up knees, as the temperature around her fell and the rain beat down against the dry ground, flooding it with puddles.

She watched as lightning flashed through the turbulent clouds and thunder boomed through the sky shortly after, the deafening sound ricocheting off the wall behind her.

It had been countless minutes since she had watched Oliver walk off, she had waited, foolishly allowing her heart a moment of hope that he would return and realise the mistake of his words.

She ought to hate him for leaving her there, she had offered her heart and he had handed it back, maybe one day she would feel anger over his words, but for now she couldn’t hate him. For everything that Oliver was, and for everything that he wasn’t – there was never any malice or a selfish thought to be found within him – even if it came at personal cost to his own wants.

“Felicity, what on earth are you doing out here?” she heard her mother say, the tapping of her shoes quickening as she ran to crouch down beside her.  
Felicity blinked up, her face sallow and greyed, her body shivering uncontrollably.  
“Honey?” Donna prompted again, pushing hair back from Felicity’s face.

The truth was Felicity had been sitting there like that for near on two hours, sobbing until her body had no more tears to give. Guests had left as she stayed hidden around the corner from them, shielded from the headlights of the fancy cars by the heavy oak chair to the side of her. It was verging on midnight when her mother finally found her there.

Donna’s eyes scurried over Felicity, looking for any possible injury to account for her daughter’s state, but aside from the deep imprints on her arms from her own nails gripping into her skin so tightly, she found nothing.

Donna wrapped her long embroidered shawl around Felicity’s shoulders and guided her up. Silently she moved her around the porch, inside and up the stairs.

As the door to her bedroom closed Felicity fell onto her bed, another wave of tears burning tracks down her blotted and cold cheeks.

“Ray has asked your father for your hand in marriage,” Donna said quietly, leaning her body up against the back of the closed door.

Felicity scoffed over the suggestion, typical he wouldn’t even have the guts to ask her himself this time.  
“And what has the wise Noah decided?” she asked mockingly as she sat up and pushed her body against the painted white cast iron headboard, the intricacies of such a bed stirring a hatred inside Felicity over yet another ‘fine’ thing in her life that made Oliver believe she deserved more than just him.

“Your father has left the decision up to you,” Donna remarked softly as she took a seat on the edge of the bed.  
“No decision in my life has every truly been up to me. I didn’t decide to move to New York, I didn’t decide what to wear or who to see there, I didn’t decide what lessons I should take or what instrument I should learn. My whole life was planned out by other people, so go, make this decision for me too,” Felicity spoke bitterly, her hands raking through her hair, pulling strands free from the once elegant style.

“Felicity, we have only ever done those things for your benefit,” Donna started, reaching a hand out towards her daughter.  
“Stop it,” Felicity snapped, screwing her eyes tightly closed, “stop saying you do all this for me, I’m tired of people thinking they know what I want, what I need. When do I ever get a say in any of it?”

“You sent me away to New York because that’s what _you_ thought I needed. Aunt Matilda pranced me around like I’m some sort of prized horse up for auction to the highest bidder because that’s what _she_ thought my life needed and Oliver tells me he can’t love me because he can’t give me dresses and vacations because that’s what _he_ thinks I deserve. When do I get to choose any of this for myself?”

Felicity knew she had let slip something she had been keeping from her mother for some period of time – her feelings for Oliver now out in the open, poignantly obvious as she spoke his name with such passion. But Felicity didn’t regret it for a moment, the release of his name from her lips like a cathartic liberation in itself.

“If these tears are for Oliver, then perhaps the boy has done what is right. You can’t live the right kind of life with him Felicity, the life you are meant for,” Donna’s hand fell lightly atop Felicity’s knee.

“What kind of life is that? Married to a man who doesn’t really care for me, just because it affords me a nice house and a good last name? I’m supposed to want your life?” Felicity spat, instantly seeing the recoil in her mother’s eyes, her words had stung her – perhaps as Felicity had meant them to.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Felicity sighed, dropping her head low – she was angry at her mother for many things, but she didn’t deserve the vitriol with which Felicity spoke.  
“No, you’re right in many ways, I was married off at an age barely older than you, to a man that I hardly knew, but your father is a good man.”

“Is he?” Felicity sighed, her voice barely above a whisper.  
“Did you love him?” she asked, a question that she had never been sure as to the answer.  
“I knew he was a good man. Your father has never raised a hand at me and he has given me a good life.”  
“That’s not what I asked, I asked if you loved him when you married him?”

Felicity watched as her mother struggled to formulate an answer to a question she had never been asked before.

“No, I didn’t, but I have also seen the effects of trying to live on love alone Felicity,” she finally spoke, a shadow of sadness cast across her eyes.  
“You loved someone else?”  
“Not me, your Aunt. She fell deeply in love with a boy whose father worked on our family farm. Matilda loved that boy from the moment we were children to the moment she made a decision to run away with him. She gave him her whole self, turned her back on her family and left, she was barely 18 and I was a mere child of 11. She was 24 when she finally returned home. He had left her, destitute and alone with her heart in pieces. She won’t ever speak of those years she spent away but she returned bitter and with a heart that she has never had mended. I sent you to New York fearing your heart would suffer the same fate if you stayed here.”

Donna’s eyes dropped sadly, recalling the moments she had seen the attachment Felicity was forming with Oliver, that twinkle in Felicity’s eye as an 8 year old when she spoke about Oliver at the dinner table all those years ago – it had been so troublesomely similar to the look a doe-eyed fifteen year old Matilda would get when she spoke of her love for the young boy who kissed her in the lily fields on the way home from school.

It had been Matilda who had told Donna to marry the suitor that their father had picked out for her, telling her that marriage was more than just fickle emotions, that it required one to be logical and to think ahead, which is what Donna had done.

“I married your father because it was the sensible thing to do, in time I knew I could grow to love him, just like you can with Ray.”  
Felicity sighed tersely at the mention of his name, unable to imagine herself every loving such a dull man with whom she felt no attraction.

“You think what you have now is love?” Felicity asked softly, her heart retching over the painful truth she knew – a man who loved his wife did not betray her as Noah had done.  
“I think we love each other as best we can,” Donna replied, smoothing her hand across the fine cotton linen.

“And you would have that kind of love for me?” Felicity asked, sadly placing her hand atop her mother’s  
Donna looked up, a quiet sadness in her eyes that made Felicity think for a moment that she knew of Noah’s indiscretion, or maybe other’s further back.

Felicity clutched her mother’s hand, thumbing gently over the exquisite wedding ring that sat on her finger.

“If you look at me now and tell me that you wish your life for me, then I will tell Ray yes,” Felicity blinked back the quiet tear forming in the corner of her eye.

“If growing to love someone _as best as you can_ is all you hope for me then tell me what I ought do with the rest of my heart that will always belong to another,” Felicity finished, her heart silently calling out to Oliver.

 

* * *

 

Oliver paced the barn with his fingertips dug deeply into his scalp. The gravity of his words hanging around his neck like an anvil on a noose. He had meant every word he had said to Felicity, but the pain was not dampened by this fact.

He had thought about running back through the rain in his fresh change of clothes and falling to her feet begging to take back his words and pleading for her not to marry another so he could selfishly keep her for his own.

He knew he loved her. He had always cared for her when they were young, never really imaging a life where she wasn’t somehow part of it. It hadn’t been love then, and perhaps when he had kissed her in the light rain on the fence post those weeks ago, it had been more about an overwhelming sense of lust. But he was certain that what he felt for her now was without a doubt love.

To think that he had pushed that love away, broken it so it didn’t tarnish in his hands, was like hot coals to his heart – the pain was immeasurable.

The clapping of the thunder bolt above shook the whole barn, rocking the strung up lantern. Oliver took the two steps towards it through the dancing glow as the wind blew the barn door open a hail of heavy rain in its wake.

He rushed to the door as the wind howled through, reaching out his arm to close it just as Felicity stumbled in, her clothes drenched through and her small body shivering underneath them.

“Felicity,” he stammered, clutching her to his chest as he pushed the door closed, bolting it from the inside.  
She collapsed into his arms, her lips a deathly shade of blue after she ran blindly through the thunderstorm to end up at his door.

He walked her towards the heavy iron barrel where he had lit a fire earlier to dry Tommy’s suit next to. The warm amber flames licked up the sides casting their golden hues across her silken skin as he sat her on a stool beside it.

“You’re wet through, why’d you do that?” he whispered, panicked as he ran his hands across her cheeks desperate to see some colour return to them.

Her pouted lips never spoke a word as she looked up at him, desperate to say everything that she felt on her heart.

Oliver tugged the blanket off the makeshift bed he hadn’t packed away from the night before and placed it in her shivering hands.  
“I’m going to turn around, take your wet clothes off and wrap the blanket around you,” he instructed waiting for her to slowly nod before he took a few steps backwards and turned around.

***~*~*~***

“I’m finished,” her soft voice called, barely heard above the sound of the rain against the tin roof above them.  
He turned around to find her sitting on the same stool her eyes downward with a blanket wrapped firmly around her body, her wet dress hung over the nylon rope beside Oliver’s pants.

“Are you going to tell me what made you run down here in a rain storm?” he asked, his tone reminding Felicity of the same one he would take as a boy when she did something foolish.

But they weren’t children now, not even close.  
“I told Ray I would give him my answer in the morning,” Felicity muttered, her eyes watching the flames as they danced up the side of the barrel.  
“Are you going to say yes?” Oliver asked stoically.  
“That’s what everyone wants isn’t it?” Felicity sighed, her eyes finally blinking up at his.

“Everyone just wants what’s right for you,” Oliver tried to smile as he placed another piece of wood on the fire.  
“What about what I want? When do I get a say in anything?” she stood up, finally reaching the point where she couldn’t handle another person telling her what she needed in life.

Oliver was all out of ways to tell her what he already had. He knew his words were true, that she would be better off with another in her life, one better able to give her the things he knew she deserved, but in truth he didn’t want to believe it any more than she did.

“We can’t keep saying the same words and expecting things to be any different. You belong in the life laid out for you as much as I belong in the life laid out for me.”  
“Tell me if you’d be saying that if I were the daughter of a man who worked a mill, or worked with steel,” she stepped closer to him, the blanket pulled tight around her body as her eyes desperately searched his for the truth.

“It don’t matter, because you ain’t. You have opportunities that other people would give a left hand for.”  
“Then they can have them, it means nothing to me.”  
“You say that now, but in years to come you’ll regret it.”  
“How do you know? You won’t even give me a chance.”

He couldn’t keep his hands away from her, instinctively cradling her head in the palm of his hand, his thumb tracing the line of her cheek.  
“Felicity,” he spoke her name softly, each syllable its own exhale from his lips, “You deserve all the good things in life, all its finery, not a dusty old barn and a farm hand with almost nought to his name.”

“So that’s it, that’s truly what you want for me?” she whispered leaning into his palm.  
“Yes, I would never mean you any ill will Felicity,” he stroked her cheek again, casting away a solitary tear.  
“I know,” she breathed, a flickering smile caught briefly on her soft lips, “there isn’t a wicked bone in your body Oliver Queen and I both love you, and hate you for it.”

She looked up at him the moment the word love slipped from her lips. She didn’t regret it and wouldn’t take it back for anything in the world, especially when she saw the way his eyes danced at hearing it.

 _I love you too_  
He wanted to say, but he swallowed the words down, afraid if he let himself say them he might never be able to let her go.

“So I tell him yes, I live the life you think I need, think I _deserve_ , but that is for the morning, tonight I need something else, something from you,” she whispered, her hand slowly peeling his away from her face and lacing her fingers into his

“What is it?” he asked, holding her hand tighter than he’d held onto anything before.  
“I want you to take me as your own tonight, put your hands on me like I know you want to, like I want you to, have me as yours so if his hands are the only ones I’m to feel for the rest of my life I can look back and remember the time I knew what it felt like to be touched by these hands.”

Her eyes grew wet with tears as she brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it gently.  
“Please don’t condemn me to a life where I don’t ever know how the touch of love feels. Let me have something to remember when I share a cold bed with a man that has no affection for me,” her voice trembled over the honesty of the request.

She knew that without a memory of what love should feel like that she would damn her heart to a life of misery that would slowly destroy her, but one night in the hands of someone she knew loved her and she knew, without a moment of doubt, that she loved too, would be enough to sustain her. Just one memory to recall when she needed it.

Oliver’s breath was stagnant, hitched somewhere in the back of his throat, her honesty both beautiful and tragic. Her tiny hand was shaking around his, her blue eyes reflecting the firelight beside them, were full of purpose and pleading, waiting for an answer Oliver couldn’t momentarily give.

“I won’t beg you, if you turn me away now, I won’t ever bother you with it again,” she spoke, her veiled request still hanging heavy in the air.

Oliver reached out his free hand, swiftly coupling the nape of her neck, sweeping it in without a word, as his lips crashed against hers as a loud thunder clap in the distance echoed around them, poetically mimicking the fevered caress his lips heaped upon hers.

Her hand released its grip on the blanket sending it spilling to the floor around her feet, the sudden startling exposure of her skin to the brisk air sent a shiver coursing down her spine instantly littering her silken milky skin with goosebumps.

Oliver’s chest heaved as his hand skimmed down her naked back, tracing across the goosebumps set atop her smooth skin. She gasped softly into his mouth at the sensation of his fingers delicately dancing trails down her back.

His lips pressed against hers as hers scurried across his, both desperate for the intimacy wrapped up in the moment. The thunderous claps from the skies above and the angry rain belting in waves against ever angle of the barn drifted deep into the background as all they heard were the soft breaths of one another.

She mewed into the movement of his hand careening up her body and lacing into her thick blond locks, grasping at her scalp with such unbridled hunger, craving her lips deeper onto his and urging her body closer.

He breathed her name with such passion that each slowly drawn syllable dripped longingly into her mouth. He was holding on to his sanity by a thread, if they didn’t part soon he knew he never would.

“Felicity, are you sure?” he sighed, his lips now hovering above her cheek, each word lightly brushing a kiss over it.

Felicity, virtually naked and completely vulnerable to him had never been so sure of answer before in her life.  
“Yes,” she whispered against his unshaven jaw before she pulled away, eager to watch his eyes as they lingered on her naked form, only the smallest of white and almost sheer fine silk panties left on her body.

She watched with a smile as the licks of firelight caught the heavy swallow in his throat and his hand reached out to her, an extended finger grazing the path the necklace took from her neck, over the slight raise of her collarbone then ever so slowly down her softly panting chest, stopping at the pendant which lay between her pert breasts.

She waited for words as his lips parted slowly, but only a breathy exhale came.  
“I wanted to wear it for you,” she spoke with an air of hesitation caught in her voice.  
“Is that okay?” she whispered when still no words came from his mouth.  
“It’s beautiful,” he choked back the emotion as he trailed his eyes back up to hers, his fingers still touching the pendant like it was the finest glass beneath them, “You’re beautiful.”

His lips found home in hers once more, devouring her bottom lip with his own. Hot, dewy breaths passed between them as his hands drove purposefully down her body, flicking the elastic band of her panties as they skated over them, stopping under the curve of her ass.

Oliver lifted her, her arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, raking her fingers up his shirt, desperate to rip it from his body. He carried her almost without a moment’s exertion to the bed of hay bales where he sat down, Felicity perched on his lap tightly pressed against his chest. Her fingers pinched the hem of his simple button-less cotton shirt, her eyes begging for its removal so she could feel his naked skin brushing against her own. His hands gripped the same points where her fingertips held. Fluidly he lifted the shirt from his body as her hands walked up his sides, her tongue idly making tracks back and forth across her blushed lips.

Oliver’s lips dropped to her neck, drawing a path of dewy kisses down to her collarbone, breathing in heavily the warm scent lingered on her skin. Her body trembled as his lips met with once untouched places. They were places she had never given second thoughts to – the lightly speckled freckles just below the right side of her collarbone, the soft rise of flesh just above her breast and the faint birthmark on the front of her left shoulder – but his lips treated them with such tenderness and importance she suddenly felt each tiny nerve soaring around them.

Felicity could barely breathe for fear it would take her focused concentration away from memorising the sensation of his lips coupling against her skin and the feel of his own smooth trails of back muscles under her fingertips.

Oliver took his time with her body, savouring the taste of her skin as his tongue gently lapped over each kissed he placed against it. He could feel the intuitive way her hips writhed against his chest, craving the hard drive of it against her brimming sex.

“Oliver,” she panted his name, her bottom lip caught up in her teeth and her eyes heavily lidded.  
“Please,” she whispered, unsure what she needed but desperate for it all the same.

Her core tightened like a rubber band as he drove his hand down the centre of her chest, pushing his fingers between her lips as he reached the warmth of her heat. She bucked her head back at the wanted intrusion. He let his lips fall onto her elongated neck, devouring it between his pulsed lips, his teeth and tongue lightly dancing a tango across it.

Felicity pushed her hips against his hand, desperately craving something she couldn’t verbalise but her body could instinctively find.

Oliver stroked hair back from her face, his eyes taking a moment to watch her as her head caved forward again falling on to his shoulder.

He held her tightly against his body as he turned and lay her gently onto the blanket that covered the bales, her head rested atop his pillow, her hair sprawled like a halo across it as his hand slipped out from under her. He watched her chest rise and fall, the pendant of the necklace slipping onto her breast before he stood.

Her brow furrowed at his departure, her lips parted ready to object before she saw him stoop down to collect the fallen blanket. He returned to her side and gently lay the blanket over her almost naked body.

Walking around to the other side his eyes never faltered from hers, watching as the fire that warmed the air beside them highlighted the curves and planes of her ethereal face.

Felicity watched as he stood on the other side of the bed, his hands slowly undoing the fly on his pants before he pushed them down his legs. A smile brimmed across her face as her eyes were magnetically drawn to his formed erection.

Without removing his cotton briefs he slid between the blankets next to her, his hand blindly finding her waist where it drew idle circles around her navel.

“Felicity, if you want me to stop,” he breathed, his warm body pressed against hers.  
“I wont,” she spoke before capturing his lips onto her own.  
“But if you do, just say so,” he urged, his free hand lightly drawing back fallen strands of hair from her face.

She nodded her acceptance to his terms before tilting her body toward him. His hands drew upwards from her navel lightly cupping her breast. She swallowed down the tiny gasp that had formed her throat. Each touch he lay on her was new and exciting and she craved it with every ounce of her body, but trepidation scourged through her mind.

“Oliver, I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered, her eyes troubled with embarrassment.  
“Just relax,” he breathed, peppering warm kisses across her neck.

She tracked her nails across his scalp and down his neck as his kisses started down her body.

Oliver’s kisses deepened as he reached her breast, his hand still gently cupping it and caressing it between his fingers before his lips curved around her nipple. He felt her fingers grip into his shoulder as he pulled her sensitive pebbled nipple into his mouth, gently batting it around with his tongue.

Felicity arched her back at the sensation of her nipple floating around his mouth, the warmth and moisture of his lips treating her breast to array of tantalising furore.

His other hand moved between her legs, gently easing them apart. She moaned into his messy hair as his fingers slipped under the thin film of fabric and lightly caressed her mound, before one finger slid slowly between her lips, skating lines back and forth across her sex.

She caught a sudden stunted inhale of warm air as her body moved in a drawn out rhythmic response to the slow strokes his finger lavished on her.  
“Please Oliver, I need to feel more,” she whispered candidly.  
His eyes looked up from her breast, silently encouraging her patience. He had decided that if this was all she was to remember then each second he spent with her would be worth the memory.

Oliver continued the slow pace of his finger through her slick heat as his mouth playfully favoured her breast, lightly sucking it is as his hand massaged the underside, his thumb pressed in to her centre, anchoring the sensation there.

Slowly his finger weighted more pressure against her heat pushing up into her tightly wound bundle. He smiled against her breast as her body bucked once more in response to his actions. He couldn’t help but watch as her eyes flickered and her lips parted over breathy exhales as his finger slowly slid around her heat, stirring frequently against her clit.

“Oliver, I’ll do whatever you ask, please,” she sighed over her words, spoken with a rousing temperament.  
“Lift your legs,” he gently urged, guiding her obedient legs to perch upward for a moment as he slipped her panties down her legs, caressing each pricked nerve down her legs as they went.

The panties were lost somewhere down below her toes as Oliver’s hand moved back up her leg, holding the soft spot behind her knee as he urged it to bend and guided it around his waist, spreading her legs further apart.

His fingers slowly moved back in between her lips, now two running simultaneous tracks through her highly charged heat. His mouth skimmed across her chest till it reach her untouched nipple, determined to lavish the same attention on it.

“Tell me if this hurts and you need me to stop,” he spoke into her skin, watching her closely as she nodded.  
His finger caressed her wet entrance before gently slipping inside. He watched her eyes fling open and her mouth gape but she never uttered a word for him to stop. Her body tightened around him as he slowly moved in deeper, lightly touching against her warm smooth walls.

“You need to relax,” he soothed, kissing a trail of delicate kisses across her hips.  
He watched her face with a fixed smile as she caught her lip in her teeth and nodded feverishly  
Gently he soothed a second finger around her entrance, pushing in against it briefly before releasing the pressure. He firmed his lips to her stomach, kissing haphazard paths across it, seeking out a spot that would make her moan.

She felt the pressure of his finger caressing inside her in slow, purposed movements, each stroke magnified within her. She tried to regulate her stilted breathing as she drunk in the pleasurable sensation of his moist lips pressing kisses against her fevered skin.

“Please Oliver, I want to feel you,” she pleaded her hands eager to smooth across every part of his chest.  
Oliver glided a second finger inside her tight entrance. She gasped loudly as her hips pushed upwards, taking him in deeper.

He slid his body up, his eyes meeting the crystal blue of hers.  
She nudged in against his chest as he drew his fingers in and out of her, his thumb gently massaging her bundled nerves. He wanted desperately to be inside her now, to fill her slowly and deliberately.

Her hands moved randomly over his body, dancing eagerly over his defined chest, across his broad shoulders, then down to the his gently rocking hips. They scouted over his cotton briefs, drawing back quickly when they pressed against his pulsing erection. Timidly they returned to the spot, stroking three rushed strokes before scurrying away again.

He watched the excitement build up in the iris’ of her eyes as her hands trickled down to his shaft again, taking a firm hold of it this time, her thumb gently pushing over the ridgeline of the head causing Oliver the pass an unexpected grunt.

“I want you inside me,” she breathed nervously over the coyness of her request.  
Oliver withdrew his fingers from inside her as her body quaked around them, relishing the erotic pleasure such a move was bestowing on her.

He slid the briefs from his body, casting them onto the floor beside the bed. His hand moved once again between her legs, cupping her heat and gently massaging his palm into her mound. He studied the intricacies of her expression as she lapped up the sensation, instinctively grinding her body further into his hands.

He shifted his body, hovering on an elbow above her, longingly kissing her dewy and pouted lips. His hand steadied the tip of his engorged member just above her slick entrance. He kissed her lips tenderly as he gently eased himself inside her. His mouth caught her softly whimpered gasp at the pressure welling around her tight walls as he slowly filled her.

Felicity bit gently into Oliver’s lip as the encompassing feeling of Oliver slowly entering her wound her core tightly. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she arched her back slightly, opening herself up to him as a soft, emotion lathed tear slipped from her eye.

Oliver kissed the tear away the moment his eyes caught sight of it, he felt the emotion loaded into it as his thumb gently swept over her breast, eliciting a breathy mew of pleasure to drip from her lips and onto his.

“Oliver?” her voice shook with her quivered breathing.  
“Hmm?” he softly moaned in response.  
“You’ve done this before right?” she blushed at her own words, as he halted his entering allowing her body to adjust to the new sensation.  
“Aye, a few times,” he kissed the answer onto the trembling pulse point on her neck.  
“Is it supposed to hurt?” she whispered, a second tear squeezing from her eye.

Oliver caught the tear in his lips once more.  
“I reckon so,” he gently smiled, smoothing his nose against her cheek “I can stop if…”  
“No,” she pleaded, her hands holding hips and gently urging his body to push into her deeper.  
Oliver moved slowly, deepening his shaft down inside her.

Felicity’s body shook with the languished movements as she felt Oliver deep within her. She gripped him tighter her lips searched for his, finding them swiftly, mashing hurried and fevered kisses on your them.  
“Please Oliver, more,” she panted as her eyes fell closed, focused on the sensations coursing through her body.

He pushed in further feeling the instant he pushed through, breaking the gift she had always wished to bestow on him and him alone.

Felicity’s head lurched forward at the sudden startling feeling, burying her head into the crook of his neck as the low grumbled pain gave way to a rush of pleasure. The tears trickled down her face as he filled her still more, her body adjusting around him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hand caressing her breast once more.  
She nodded into his shoulder.

He gently halted his shaft inside her, allowing her body once more to adjust as he peppered lingered kisses across her sweltering shoulder. Gently he partially pulled out, his fingers skirting her brimming bundle of nerves, before he eased back in, building up a slow repetitive dance with her hips moving in time with his.

Her gasps became heightened, mixed with her hot breath, warm into his shoulder.  
“Is it supposed to feel like this?” she panted as he built up the pace.  
“Like-good…. Or-bad?” he asked, his words caught in stunted quips.  
“Both,” she cried out, nipping into his shoulder.  
“I-think-so,” he huffed between increased pumps.  
“You think? Oh god,” she gaped licking her tongue across her lips, her head falling onto the pillow.  
“Well I ain’t never been the lady,” Oliver winked, feeling his release burgeoning.  
Felicity moaned unreservedly as he continued upping the pace, sliding her tightly clenched walls over his ridged head.  
“Oliver I, I, I,” she clutched at him tighter, the lingered pain beginning to disperse, replaced with something far more enticing

Oliver lost himself in her eyes as his hand trembled over her clit, pulling her to heights she had never experienced before, but wore so openly in the clear blue of her eyes. He had wanted her to feel every pleasure he could relish on her, he had wanted to take his time with her but as he watched her lips fold over each other, his hand deeply lost in her dripping folds and his lips able to touch kisses freely over her blushed face, he was unable to stem himself.

He let himself go inside of her, watching as her eyes widened, in a moment he forget everything, dozed with the rush of filling Felicity in a way that was built on a foundation he had with no other.

Moments later he realised the gravity of his actions, he had not planned to do that.  
“I’m sorry, I…” he went to apologise but before he could utter a full sentence Felicity had cupped his head in her hands and crashed her trembling lips onto his, desperate to languish in the taste of his lips as her body quaked through each sensation.

What seemed like a lifetime later, he fell down beside her, tiny drops of hot sweat beading across his forehead as the fire illuminated the soft glow of the same across hers.  
“I love you Oliver,” she whispered, as he held her tight into his chest.  
“I love you too,” he smiled into her tousled hair, unwilling to let another thought trek into his mind.

They would soak up this moment quietly together, knowing all they had was now.  They would let the morning’s perils speak for themselves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did that....  
> Hope it was worth the wait.


	13. Black Horse

It was barely morning, the dawn breaking over the horizon only moments ago as Oliver calmly combed his hands through Felicity’s tousled hair, drawing out sections of the blond silk between his fingers wistfully enjoying how it smoothed through each twist. His other hand lay underneath her neck, his arm cradling her body close to his as his fingers drew intricate line patterns as far as it could reach down her back.

He smiled, enamoured, as her soft lips melted kisses into his warm chest.  
“Did you sleep any?” he asked, relishing the way her skin felt under his fingertips.  
“A little,” she replied faintly, rolling her body gently against his.  
“Are you sore some?” he asked, the concern clear in his tone.

He felt her soft breath against his skin as she blew out a drawn exhale.  
“A little, but I don’t mind it any,” she smiled, kissing her soft lips once more against the front of his shoulder.

“Oliver?” she whispered against his smooth chest, her fingers tracing the ridges of his abs.  
“Yes miss?” he smiled, running his thumb across her forehead, guiding her face up to look at him.

“You don’t regret this any, do you?” she asked, raising her brows as she blew a soft exhale of nerves.  
“It ain’t possible to regret you, not now, not ever,” he replied, his tongue still savouring the taste of her skin left lingering on his lips.

His eyes watched her as her face turned from relief to sadness. He didn’t need to ask her and she need not say a word – what she was thinking was written clearly across her face. He still believed what he had told her hours ago – she deserved everything good and fine in life, only now to actually let her slip from his arms seemed an impossible feat.

“Don’t marry him,” Oliver whispered, as if the plea was meant only for him.  
Felicity blinked upwards, her hand now cupped to the side of his bristled jaw, her eyes begging for a repeat of his words.

Oliver swallowed heavily, clearing the stopped words in his throat.  
“Don’t marry him, say no, stay with me,” Oliver stumbled out the words in quick session, finally freeing himself from constraints of what he had always thought was the ‘ _right_ thing to do’ verses what he actually _wanted_.

“Don’t play games with me Oliver Queen, that’s not right. You say that now and you mean it for better, for worse,” Felicity replied, sitting up next to him, her eyes focused on his as she held the blanket tight to her chest like a shield across her heart.

“I know what I said before is right and I know that what I’m saying now is selfish, but I don’t want none of this life if I ain’t spending it with you,” his lips quivered as his voice cracked over the last few words.

“Everything I make with these hands I will give to you. I won’t ever stop trying to make you happy and give you everything you need” he spoke firmly, his palms lying open on her lap

Felicity floated one hand gently above his palm and traced her finger along a line she found there, a line that those believing in such things would refer to as the heart line.

“See the thing is Oliver if you’re in my life holding my hand, then that’s all I’ll ever need. I’ll want for nothing if I just have you,” her words floated gently into his ear, as a welcomed warmth dripped beautifully through her tone.

She lay her palm flat onto his, her other hand pulling away from the blanket leaving it tucked up under her arms as she reached for his face, her thumb swiping up across his cheek.  
“It’s always been you Oliver, it will always be you,” her lips folded together before pulling out into a shaking smile, a single tear coursing over the curves of her face, “there ain’t a thing in this world that I reckon could change that,” she smiled, adopting the words she knew he would have chosen.

Oliver’s forehead lightly pressed against Felicity’s as his free hand folded atop her, sandwiching her lightly trembling hand between his.  
“I ain’t going to let you leave from my life again Felicity,” his lips brushed atop hers, lightly cupping her top lip and swaying his tongue over the dip of her cupid’s bow.  
“Always,” he breathed against her lightly parted lips, pausing long enough to skim another barely touching kiss as he slowly breathed her in.  
“Forever,” Oliver finished, his finger moving to tilt her chin up as his lips scooped hers up, forging every emotion he felt for her into the slow caress of his hungering lips.

“Then it’s settled, I’ll tell him no and see him off at the gate, but for now I should just like to enjoy being with you,” she smiled laying back down beside him, her hand gently skating down his side.

She slid the same hand under the blanket, dipping into his waist before rising over his hips. Her hand dropped forward onto his body, skimming over his slightly aroused member.

He shivered at her touch, his lips folding inward at the sensation of her neatly trimmed nails gliding over him.  
“Oliver, are you blushing?” she smiled, almost wickedly as her fingers slowed their movement over his shaft.

“You’re hardly playing fair,” he muttered, his eyes softly lidding.  
She grinned up at him through doe-eyes and blushed lips as his tone reminded her fondly of the same he had adopted when she had stood on the rock to be taller than him and made Oliver promise something all those years ago…  
_“if you come back a lady, I’ll treat you like a lady”_ he had promised.

Unable to resist the allure of her, Oliver leaned in, kissing gently against her warm pillowed lips as his hand moved up her body and nestled on her hip.

His lips ran over hers feverishly, his tongue scouting around the ridgeline of her bottom lip as his hand gently rocked her towards him, pushing her soft breasts against his firm chest and trapping her hand against his cock, now lightly pulsing in her palm.

Felicity drew in sharply through her nose before a little giggle broke forth from her lips and scattered across his.

Oliver broke free from the kiss, looking down at her perplexed as she screwed her eyes shut, her whole body lightly jostling in his arms as she tried to contain a second brewing giggle.  
“Something funny I ought know about?” Oliver smiled, brushing back her forehead so her face tipped up towards him.

“I’m sorry, no, its fine,” she smiled, pushing back his shoulder so his back was flat on the bales with her body skimmed up against his. She kissed a line up his chest, paying special attention to the crook of his neck. It was warm to the touch of her lips as she lightly scattered kisses over his heavy beating pulse point, her hand simultaneously dancing pressed licks up and down his burgeoning erection.

When her lightly grazed kisses, warm with her breath, reached his bottom lip and her teeth lightly took in it, Oliver let out a low growl of enjoyment.

Felicity dropped her head onto his shoulder, her body once again convulsing against his in laughter.

“Felicity, what is so funny?” Oliver smiled, running smooth tracks down her spine.  
“You’re naked,” she giggled, her blue eyes dancing across his with a youthful glow.  
Oliver smiled as he squinted through his confusion at her statement – they were both naked, very much so.

“It’s just you’re here and last night happened and you’re naked,” she drew careless lines across his chest, absently licking her tongue across her bottom lip, “very, very naked.”

“We did chores together and swam in the lake together and now you’re here and you’re very naked,” she pushed her head into his chest, grappling for control of her soft giggle.  
“Felicity?” Oliver smiled into her soft tumbled of hair across his shoulder.  
“Mmmm?” she hummed back, the reverb warm against his chest.  
“You’re very naked too.”

Unable to contain it any more Felicity burst out into a full laugh, her head still buried deep into his chest, her sudden outburst drawing a completely genuine smile from Oliver, the kind – he was beginning to realise – only she had the ability to draw from him.

* * *

  
Oliver drizzled hot kisses down Felicity’s back as she sat on the edge of the bed, the blanket balanced in front of her chest and barely spread over Oliver’s naked hips lying beside her.

“You don’t regret this do you?” he asked, folding her blonde locks over her shoulder to press the lightest of kisses on her shoulder blade underneath.  
Felicity rubbed her chin gently across her shoulder as she twisted to look at him.

She didn’t have any words, but the prance of her blue eyes and the slight pull of a smile in the corner of her full rosy lips gave Oliver all the answer he needed.  
“Was I, was it,” she screwed her eyes shut, trailing a finger nervously across her bare shoulder.  
“You were perfect,” his body pushed up against hers, his lips sweeping across the satiny skin along the hairline just behind her ear.

Felicity melted in on the affectionate attention his mouth lavished on her as she enjoyed the caress of his chest against her back.  
“I can fetch you some water to wash with, or set about fixing the tub in the clearing if you want to bathe,” Oliver offered, kissing a softly dotted line from the point behind her ear to the very tip at the curve of her shoulder.

“No, I just want to get this done, be rid of that tiresome Mister Palmer, who knows maybe he’ll take that bitter Aunt of mine with him. What a pair they would make!” she exclaimed, laughing over the mere thought of the two of them involved in some train tryst.

“Will you journey up to the waterfall with me later though?” she asked, her mind drifting back to the moment spent there just before she was packed up and shipped off.  
“Aye, just don’t forget your bathers this time,” he smiled against her skin, inhaling contentedly over her shoulder, where the slight remnant of the scent of orange blossom still lingered.  
“I was thinking maybe we ought not need them,” she smiled over her shoulders, raising both neatly groomed brows as his teeth caught her bottom lip.

Oliver smiled as he raked his fingers gently through her hair just above her ear.  
“Felicity Smoak, to see that would be worth all the years in purgatory,” he winked blissfully.

* * *

She pulled his hand back into hers, clasping it tightly with her fingers entwined in his as their walk had them closing in on the Ranch house.  
“I don’t want to act like this is something to be ashamed of. I don’t care what they think Oliver, let them see us, I’m not hiding it anymore.”  
Oliver nodded with a smile, gripping her hand in return as they strolled towards the front porch.

It was Noah who saw them first, looking over the top of his paper, his brow twitching only slightly at the sight of his only daughter, still dressed in her fine gown from the night before her hair a cascade of free curls down her back and her hand deeply embedded in the hand of the rancher that he had known since boyhood.

He was not a man of many emotions, nor did he wear what little he showed readily on his face, but for a slight moment Felicity thought she saw a proud one twitch across his brow as he folded the paper and laid it on the table.

“Your Mam has been looking for you Felicity, best you go inside and see her fore she sends for the Police,” Noah spoke calmly as he pushed opened the front door.

Felicity bobbed her head slowly, it was time for both Ray and Aunt Matilda to board the train back to New York.  
“I mean no disrespect to you Oliver, but it’s best you wait outside,” Noah said stoically as his eyes lingered on the entwined hands.

Felicity turned to Oliver and greeted him with a smile.  
“It’ll be fine, wait here for me, I’ll only be a few moments,” she spoke quietly as Noah walked passed them and into the house, holding the large door open for Felicity.

“I’ll be right down there waiting for you,” he smiled, gesturing his head back down the front stairs  
Felicity slowly dropped her hand from his, dancing a soft enchantment across his wrist before she walked into the house, turning back to smile just as the door closed them off from each other.

Oliver exhaled over a smile and almost skipped down the front stairs, settling his back against the bottom balustrade.

* * *

  
“You’ve barely spoken to me in days, will you be telling me the reason?” Noah asked, setting his hat on the hook by the front door as he did every time he entered the house.  
“You’ve always told me one should choose their words wisely because they can’t ever be taken back. For now I have not a one wise word to say to you,” Felicity replied, respectfully and somewhat instinctively bowing her head as she slipped passed him and headed towards the kitchen.

Felicity found her mother lightly tapping the teaspoon against the rim of the red patterned bone china, her Aunt sitting purse-lipped next to her.

Felicity had tried to imagine Aunt Matilda loving anyone but herself and those wretched cats, but it was not a Matilda that Felicity had even known and the leap was one far too great for Felicity to make right now. She had never been a warm woman, in all the years Felicity spent being her ward there was never a hug, never a moment she tried to stem the homesick tears of a child and never once was there even an unsolicited kind word.

For a moment Felicity wondered if all this was because Matilda saw her own spirited youth in Felicity. Had she read the letters that Felicity had written to Oliver over those years and burned them as they reminded her of her own wayward love? That was a question maybe one day Felicity would ask of her Aunt, though she doubted any response would come – but for now Felicity had but one task, she was there to turn Ray Palmer down, she would not marry him, not now, not ever.

“He’s in the parlor, waiting on you,” Donna smiled, intuitively knowing what her daughter was there to ask before the words even left Felicity’s mouth.  
“But may I suggest a change of clothes first, it does no one any good to push salt in a wound,” she finished, her eyes pulling inwards as she nodded towards Felicity’s dress.

Felicity didn’t want to wait a moment longer than necessary, but she understood what her mother was saying.  
“Okay,” she said simply before turning on her heels and heading upstairs as quickly as her feet could carry her.

***~*~*~***

Felicity dressed as quickly as she could, although she caught her hand spending idle minutes tracing the path Oliver’s hand had taken over her naked body. She blushed at the memory, longing to be reunited with his hands soon, eager to discover the ways he could make her feel.

She pulled up the underarm zip on the taupe lace dress, folding down the silk crepe lining and tying a bow on the matching crepe ribbon at the neck. The hem skimmed against her legs, just below her knees, as she turned towards a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Felicity spoke, grappling her hair back into a simple ponytail of untamed curls she would brush out eventually.

Donna entered the room, closing the door with a soft click behind her.  
“I trust you will be as kind as you can in the circumstance, he’s a good man,” she spoke softly.  
“I’m nothing if not polite Mam, I will see to it that my words are kind,” Felicity replied, taking the small blue and yellow hairpin from her vanity and pushing it securely into her hair.

Felicity smiled thankfully at her mother, remembering the words that she had spoken last night.

_“If you look at me now and tell me that you wish your life for me, then I will tell Ray yes” Felicity blinked back the quiet tear forming in the corner of her eye “if growing to love someone as best as you can is all you hope for me then tell me what I ought do with the rest of my heart that will always belong to another”_

_Donna’s eyes slid from Felicity’s eyes down to her hand and the ring that stood out prominently on it._  
_“I’ve always tried to do what I thought was best for you Felicity, I realise now that you are smart enough to decide that for yourself” she threaded her fingers into Felicity’s, gripping her hand tightly_  
_“You should love completely and be loved completely. Whatever your decision is, make it with my blessing”_

It had been all the motivation Felicity had needed to run through the pelting rain without a light for guidance or any way of knowing for sure how Oliver would greet her.

But she had left all the same, and it had been the best decision of her young life.

* * *

  
Felicity breathed in deeply as she slowly slid open the ornate parlor doors and exhaled through parted lips as she closed them again.  
“I’ve been waiting some time,” Ray spoke calmly, his back to the door as he studied an oil painting of a horse hung high on the wall.

“I’m sorry to make you wait, there were things I had to attend to,” Felicity replied as she took three steps into the room, her fingers steadying against the back of the white and red flowery high back chair her mother was so deftly fond of.

“I’m aware of these things, and I trust that will no longer be an issue for us Felicity,” he spoke her name with a short growl that came unexpectedly and immediately put Felicity’s back up.

She folded her lips over the bitter words she was contemplating voicing as he turned to face her, taking two long strides before he stood in front of her, his suddenly towering stature becoming seemingly oppressive.

“Mr Palmer, while I am greatly flattered by your interest in me and the time you took to come out to Starling, I must decline your proposal and wish you all the best in life.”  
Felicity smiled – her mother would be proud of the kindly way in which she spoke, she was certain of it.

“I’m afraid that answer simply won’t do. I realise you think me a bore and that you wrote of such things to your dear Oliver,” he spoke Oliver’s name as if it was venom on his tongue.

Felicity drew her brow inwards taking a few moments to register the meaning of the words he spoke – _the letters, he had been shown the letters._

“I am sorry that you were made privy to those writings, but-“  
“I wasn’t finished,” his fist thumped down on the chair beside Felicity’s hand causing her to jump an inch in recoil.  
“I do not care that you think I’m a bore, a ‘ _stank old birthing blanket from the stables_ ’ as you so poetically put it, and I have let you have your fun with your flatwheeler* but you will return to New York with me as my fiancée.”

Felicity had lost any remaining courtesy as she stiffened her back and narrowed her eyes.  
“I’m afraid you’re not understanding my words Mister Palmer. I will not now, nor ever, be inclined to marry you. Let us part ways now to save you any further embarrassment should I need to literally write it out in my impeccable penmanship for you.”

Felicity dipped her head sharply as she turned and headed back towards the doors, keen to make an exit before her unbridled tongue came out.

“I wasn’t finished,” he snapped, his large hand easily gripping tightly around her wrist as he forcefully pulled her backwards.  
“I’ll ask you once to remove your hand Mister Palmer,” Felicity spat as she tried unsuccessfully to tug her hand from his grip.  
“Tell me Felicity, did your father teach you much about the workings of a cattle ranch?” Ray quipped as he dragged her over to a chair and forced her shoulders down to sit in it.

“I know enough,” Felicity replied coldly, her eyes looking through the netted window, the knowledge that Oliver was out there bringing her a sense of calm.  
“Then you would understand that there are off seasons, times when the farm relies on other means to support itself.”

“I don’t need schooling on how a farm works Mister Palmer, I am not the fool you seem to think I am,” Felicity retorted, attempting to stand before he pushed her roughly back down into the chair.  
“Then you’ll appreciate your father is not immune to these, even with all his business sense, even he relies on the banks to see him through the winter,” Ray smiled as he placed a hand on the arm of the chair and leant in close to Felicity’s ear, his lips skating across her cheek causing her to cringe at the sensation.  
“Banks my family owns,” he whispered.

“My father is a studious man, he would never borrow more than he could make back twice over the following seasons.”  
“Yes, provided he had buyers. Only they can be a fickle bunch, the Smoak name carries a great deal of weight true, but not as much as you might think Felicity,” he cooed her name as his finger ran gently under her chin.

“Not enough to get investors, or loans, or sell stock at the price he would need to, if in fact his name is tainted, blacklisted as it were. I have seen wealthier fall for less,” he smiled, his hand now tracing the smooth curve of her arm.

Felicity was no fool, his threats were veiled, but thinly so. She knew the implications of what he was saying. Money was made and lost based on names and reputations – she was also well aware Ray was not misrepresenting the reach of his family name.

“Why don’t you say what it is you’re suggestion Mister Palmer?” she stared up at him, jolting her arm away from his hand.

He smiled again as he stood and walked behind the floral armchair Felicity was seated on.  
“You will say yes to my proposal, you will return to New York with me,” he hands slipped onto her shoulders, cold against her flushed skin, “where we will marry and you will play the ever-doting wife to her wildly successful husband. Your father will keep this generational ranch and you mother will continue to drink her imported tea in this tastefully decorated room.”

“And if I refuse your _kind_ offer?” she spoke sarcastically as she finally managed to stand, putting the chair between her and Ray.  
“Then the loans on Verdant Ranch will be called in, your father will struggle _at best_ to pay them, not a single buyer will take his culled stock, he will find no one willing to invest and no other bank will grant him any credit. They will lose this ranch you care so much for, maybe have enough to buy a small town house in the more undesirable part of Starling, but your father is too old to start again and your mother will have to sell all the precious things she loves so dearly. They will have nothing left in a few years _if they’re lucky._ ”

“Why me? I’m sure you could find a wife without resorting to blackmail,” Felicity asked as she watched him walk around the chair.

She backed away until her back found the wall and he closed in around her. She pushed her herself as firmly as she could into the wall, trying to stem the fear that was brimming inside her. She would not cower before such a man.

“I’m a man that likes a challenge Felicity and there is nothing more challenging and rewarding than taming a wild horse, breaking its free spirit until in bows to your will and accepts the life _you_ chose for it.”  
She could feel his breath against her neck as he breathed the words hotly from his mouth  
“I get the things I want in life and I have decided that includes you.”

She winched as his hand cusped her neck, his fingers lacing through her hair as he shook her until she turned her eyes to look at him.  
“It won’t be a bad life my wild horse, you will want for nothing,” his lips fell against her peached cheek as she screwed her eyes shut.

His tongue danced across her smooth skin as she tried to jostle free from being pressed between him and the wall behind.  
“I’ll enjoy breaking you, nice and slowly,” he whispered, his other hand tracking a course up between her thighs, tarnishing the sensation Oliver had left there the night before.

“Take your hands off me Mister Palmer I am not yours yet and even your family name could not so easily bounce back should I scream and you are found this way,” Felicity scathed into the air, her lips tightening with rage.

Ray chuckled abruptly as he stepped back and raised his hands mockingly above his head.  
“So what will your answer be Felicity? In truth, I am not a patient man.” 

* * *

 

Oliver mulled around quietly at the bottom of the stairs as other workers arrived for the morning and Noah Smoak returned silently to his paper on the porch. He caught sight of Donna and Matilda as they took their tea to the porch to bask in the warm morning sun. No one paid him much mind and neither did he return any as he kicked a stone with his boot, killing time while he waited for Felicity to emerge from the house.

He looked up as the door opened and smiled as he watched her step out onto the front porch, dressed differently now he noticed as his eyes walked slowly up her legs to the hem of the taupe lace dress and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine taking it off her, slowly peeling down the zip, touching his fingers to her velvety soft skin.

He caught her eyes and smiled, but she didn’t return the same, instead she looked pained, upset. Something wasn’t right.

He took a few hurried steps forward, towards her, to comfort her when Ray stepped out from behind her, his arm jauntily wrapping over her shoulders. Oliver took a step backwards, blinking at the sight that was before him, confused at why it wasn’t dissipating.

He watched her eyes, studying them for an answer, but none came. Not from her distressed eyes or the corner of her quivering lip – but one answer did come when she slowly brushed back her hair and Oliver caught a glimpse of the large diamond ring on her finger.

Oliver drew a sharp breath before stuttering the air back out from his lungs. He felt the stab to his heart as everything came sharply into bitter focus.

“Felicity and I have an announcement,” Ray cheerfully announced from the top step.  
Oliver wanted to move, to leave, splash water on his face until something – anything – made sense, but his feet were like concrete blocks poured deep into the ground. He couldn’t lift them to walk away.

“Felicity has agreed to be my wife,” he pulled her close, pushing a kiss into her hair.

Felicity caught the moment she saw Oliver’s heart twisting inside his body. He looked like the wind had been stolen from his lungs, like his world had come crashing in around him and there was not a thing she could do to fix it.

Her eyes were so trained on Oliver that she didn’t notice the cock of her mother’s head and the same look of confusion plastered on her face.

Oliver stood silent, words screaming inside of him, the pain undeniably carved into his face as the littering of folks around him slowly clapped at the news.  
_Felicity had said yes._

“Now she insisted I not get her anything too fancy, but what can I say, Felicity deserves only the best,” Ray continued, his hand gripped tightly into her waist.  
“Bring it out,” he called to a young farmhand Oliver hadn’t noticed milling around behind him.

A whistle cracked through the air and moments later a majestic black horse, with a mane the colour of a moonless sky at midnight came galloping from the stables till its rider pulled sharply on the reins and it halted in front of the steps.

“I bought you a horse, isn’t it magnificent,” Ray championed and he pulled her closer towards the beast.  
“I have a horse Ray,” Felicity spoke quietly, but clear enough that Oliver heard every word a few feet away.  
“That mixed bred mongrel is not fit for the stables of New York dear, we shall be taking this one home with us in two days when we leave.”

The betrayal felt like a knife ripping open his chest and forcing him backwards with a shove. He could see the pain in her eyes too, but none of it made sense and all he could think was to leave – with his heart callously spilled on the floor.

Felicity watched as Oliver walked away, she jolted her shoulders to follow him, but Ray’s grip was too strong, pulling her back against him.

She closed her eyes, a solitary tear falling down her cheek as she wished she could turn back the hands of the clock, put herself back with Oliver this morning as dawn broke around them, to a time where she was naked and safe in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Flatwheel = a poor young guy
> 
> #FURayPalmer


	14. A Thousand Nights

“Can you please ensure this telegram is sent as a matter of urgency,” Felicity requested as she handed the young housemaid the folded slip of paper.  
“I’ll take it to town now myself Miss,” came the agreeable response, before the housemaid hurried out the front door.

“Felicity, I don’t understand, that was your choice?” Donna asked catching Felicity’s arm before she walked upstairs, an hour or so after the announcement on the porch.

Felicity swallowed her heavy heart and drew a soft smile upwards on her lips.  
“I chose the sensible course Mam, let’s leave it at that. Know that I thank you for your words,” Felicity leaned in, kissing her mother’s rose scented cheek lightly.

Donna looked at her daughter’s ice blue eyes, a river of sadness running through them. She had known that look, she had seen the same in her own reflection over the years, but she was a woman of a generation that accepted much and spoke little. For now, this was not a discussion to be had.

The two nodded the words unspoken – saved for another day – before Donna drew a soft hand down Felicity’s arm as she walked away.

“I’m glad to hear of the marriage Felicity, Ray Palmer will make a fine husband for you,” Aunt Matilda smiled as she ceremonially hugged Felicity.  
“I will forgive my mother for her choices because they were misguided. You I will never forgive,” Felicity whispered into Matilda’s ear between a stale faked smile.

“Do you have my letters?” Felicity asked, continuing to hold Matilda against her chest so the words she spoke went no further.  
“You want for things that are long forgotten,” Matilda replied bitterly.  
“When this is all said and done I will make sure you have _nothing_ , not another dollar from my father and you will _never_ see a penny of that Palmer money you want for so badly,” Felicity’s words, though spoken in a hushed tone, could not be mistaken for empty threats.

Felicity pulled back and gently combed a finger through a lose curl around her Aunt’s face.  
“Your only redemption will come if you give me what’s mine and I may decide to look on you a little more kindly. Do not assume my youth means I am easily swayed,” Felicity spoke as she backed away, her eyes wide showing the absolute certainty of her words.

Felicity was done playing fair.

* * *

  
**July 1916**

“You ain’t going to try and keep that thing are you?” 13 year old Oliver asked as he propped his body up on his elbows in the tall grass.

The two children had ventured out in the early summer evening to pick the wild blackberries that grew along the ridgeline of the property at its farthest southern point.

“Well I’m not just going to leave it here to die,” Felicity said rigidly as she placed the small American Goldfinch into the white apron of her sky blue dress.  
“It’s nature, it dies and becomes food for the predators,” Oliver laughed as he flopped his head back down into the grass, folding his oversized hat over his face.

Felicity’s eyes narrowed and pulled inward as she wrapped the bird gently in the white cotton fabric before she landed a swift kick onto Oliver’s leg.  
“You’re a wretched boy sometimes you know that?!” she huffed defiantly.

“I’m just stating the facts as god intended them,” Oliver replied, surreptitiously rubbing the spot on his leg where her boot had made contact.  
“Just because people think life needs to be one way, it don’t make it so Oliver.”  
“That bird is going to die, whether it be here or back at the house, you ought just accept it.”

“And you ought to stop just accepting it. There ain’t nothing done right in this world that is done easy.”  
“You think a sick bird is worth it?”  
“I think everything deserves a chance for someone to fight for it till it can fight for itself, otherwise what’s the point of anything if when we hit the first patch of unsteady ground we just lay down and give up. I wouldn’t have picked you for a roll over type Oliver.”

“I know what you’re doing Felicity,” he smiled under the rim of his hat.  
“You do, do you?” Felicity replied, her lips paused on a grin.  
“Aye, you’re trying to goad me into helping you sneak that there bird inside your house cause you know your Mam would freak if she knew you had it.”

“Well, then Oliver, what will it be, roll over and just accept what life gives you or fight for something you believe in?” she declared with a reverence Oliver had always admired.  
“I hardly believe in that bird,” he smiled, dusting his pants down as he stood “but if it means that much to you, I’ll help you get it inside.”

With a flash of her perfectly agreeable smile, Oliver was left with little else to do than to start the slow trek back to the house, Felicity holding the bird gently in her arms as she rode on Flash, led with a well-trained whistle from Oliver.

“You ought to make a living out of this,” Felicity casually remarked as the sun began to set slowly around them casting a beautiful haze of orange and pink through the clouds above.  
“What? Looking after sick birds, or walking rich girls through fields?” Oliver laughed through a brimming smile.

“The horse you fool. I haven’t seen a horse as young and as well trained as yours and I’ve been to many a horsing event,” she spoke matter-of-factly.  
“I prefer them over cattle,” Oliver shrugged.  
“Why is it you don’t ever use a riding crop?”

Oliver patted the side of Flash’s neck as he blinked up at Felicity, the setting sun almost glowing behind her blonde hair.  
“That ain’t the way to gain a horse’s trust, and with their trust you have more than a horse that will canter on command, you have a partnership. You don’t break the animal so it does what you want, you treat it right so it wants to follow you, even if its scared.”

“You reckon Flash would follow you anywhere?”  
“I ain’t never been able to get him near fire yet, but one day he’ll trust me enough I’m sure of it,” Oliver nodded.  
“A lot of people would pay you good money to train their horses I reckon,” Felicity smiled as she looked down on him nervously folding a picked piece of grass between his fingers.  
She had always admired his humility.  
“This here is a cattle ranch Felicity, nobody is coming to a kid on a cattle ranch to train their horses, all them folks only want the fancy trainers with good references.”

“You can put me down as a reference, Mam still ain’t forgiven you for teaching me to ride proper, she says a lady ought to ride side saddle only, but I can ride just as well as any boy I tell you, cause of your teaching.”

Oliver dipped his hat in appreciation as they reached the rise just before the house.  
“Alright, put the bird in here.” he took off his hat and held it out to her, “but if it shits in my hat, you’re buying me a new one, you hear?”  
“Aye Oliver,” Felicity laughed.

She gently placed the yellow bird, still gently encased in her white apron, into his hat.  
“Go inside, and open your window, I’ll climb the tree and in through your window, got it?”

Felicity nodded as she hopped down from Flash.

In less than 10 minutes Oliver was sitting on her plush bed as Felicity settled the bird into a large round hat box.

Felicity tended to the sick bird day in and day out for longer than Oliver ever thought it would survive, until one day it appeared as though nothing had ever been wrong with it. They had carried the bright yellow Goldfinch back to where they had found it and set it free, the pair smiling proudly as they watched it fly away.

  
They had fought for something until it could fight for itself.

* * *

  
Felicity stepped into her room with heavily lidded eyes staring down at the floor beneath her feet. She closed the wooden door with a soft click before she pressed her forehead up against it and sighed.

“This room hasn’t changed any,” Oliver muttered quietly from the bed where he sat, hat in hands  
Felicity startled at the unexpected voice, but her surprise was quickly replaced with relief.  
“Thank god, Oliver I thought you’d not speak with me again,” she smiled, a trail of happy tears rolling down her cheeks.

She pushed the heavy toy chest in front on the door before walking towards Oliver, still sat on the white bed linen.

“I was sitting here thinking about that sick bird you made me carry in here all those years back,” Oliver started, standing from the bed.  
“I remember,” Felicity replied, it had been one of only a handful of times Oliver had ever come into her room

“And I kept thinking about what you said to me, that there ain’t nothing done right in this world that is done easy, that you ought not just lay down and accept whatever you’re handed. Only, from what I see,” he glanced down at the ring on her finger, “is that you’re not fighting no more and I don’t rightly understand it.”

Felicity stepped forward before taking half a step backwards again, she wanted to tell him, she needed to tell him, but she was afraid what he would do with the information.

“I know what this looks like Oliver and I will tell you everything I can, but I need you to promise me something,” she replied, bitterly pulling the ring from her finger and placing it on her vanity with a soft sigh at her symbolic release from it – for the time being at least.

Oliver folded his lips over her question, considering the implications such a request held – he knew that what she was really saying was _you won’t like what I’m going to say but you just have to accept it_ – or thereabouts.

In the same breath he could tell by the look of pain writhing its way across her face – this was also not something she could do alone.

“Aye, you have my word, for now at least. That’s the best I can offer you,” he said pointedly.  
Felicity smiled at his honesty, such bursts of it reminded her so fondly of the young boy that she once knew.

“I told you that Ray comes from money, yes?” Felicity started, cupping Oliver’s hand into her own as she led him back to the bed.  
Oliver’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Ray’s name, but he nodded slowly in response to her question.  
“Old money,” he added, using her phrasing.  
“Very old money, his family are one, if not the, most prominent banking families across the country, they have their hands in businesses across every walk of life and they have very, very deep pockets.”

“Aye, but this doesn’t mean much to you does it?” Oliver questioned, his body perched on the edge of her bed, his hand still clutching at hers.  
“No, not me. I couldn’t care any less for that sort of thing,” she smiled before bowing her head low, a tousle of hair falling over her face ,“but it appears they have loans over the Ranch, long story short Oliver” she sniffed blinking upwards, “Ray said they would call in the loans if I didn’t agree to marry him.”

Oliver stood up abruptly, his hand tugging free from Felicity’s – he was ropable.  
“He’s blackmailing you? Is that really how a man needs to find a wife now days?” he snapped, his fist balling up.

“Your father is a smart business man, he could pay the loans back in one good season,” he added, as he paced her small bedroom, his eyes dancing mindlessly across the small treasures each corner held.

“I know, the calling in of the loan alone wouldn’t bankrupt him, my father has always been studious in his affairs with money, but with the Palmer’s deep pockets also comes a great deal of influence. It would take only a few poor words about my father in the ears of a few to destroy the reputation he’s built up,” Felicity reasoned, her tone pleading for him to understand her predicament.

“That’s impossible,” Oliver huffed.  
“It’s not in the elite circles Oliver, a name is everything to those people, if the name is tarnished, my father might as well be trying to sell dried up old heifers for a ticket way over what they’re worth. The Ranch would go under in a few years tops.”

“You should talk to your parents about this, they should know what he’s threatening,” Oliver spoke, pacing a line in front of her bed, his hands jittering from his side to his head.  
“I can’t,” she sighed.  
“Why?”  
“Because I’m afraid of what they will say. There can only be two answers, either they tell me not to marry Ray that none of this,” she waved her hands around the room, “matters and they will live on the bones of their bodies so long as I’m happy and in which case they will lose everything and I will live with the guilt of that everyday.”

She sighed softly, folding her arms around her waist.  
“Or worse still I see the opposite in their eyes, that they _would_ have me marry him to save this Ranch, to keep them in their lifestyle and hearing that would bring me no end of misery. So you see Oliver, neither answer they could give me would provide me any real help. It would only serve to break me a little more inside.”

He watched her as she floated around the room, her hands lightly touching against the beautiful silver gown that now hung on the back of her door.  
“Either I live for love tainted by guilt or I live a life without love. I want to be happy, with you,” she whispered, turning her head over her shoulder to see him, “but what kind of happy would I be if that came at the cost of the happiness of those I love?”

Her heart sunk as she spoke the words, it was an impossible decision she found herself in. She couldn’t bear to see everything her father and his father and grandfather – to generations back – had worked so hard for reduced to nothing because she wanted to choose to be happy.

She equally couldn’t bear the thought that they might so easily ask her to forgo her happiness for the sake of land and buildings and money.

Neither would bring her relief.  
Neither would bring her happiness.

She had made the choice herself to save them having to give her either answer and, perhaps more truthfully, to save her having to hear either answer.

“So that’s it, you’re just going to marry that piece of...” he stopped himself before he said the word.  
“Really, you think that little of me?” she smiled softly, bridging the gap between him.  
“I’m hardly the roll over type Oliver, you should know me better than that. I had to give Ray an answer in the moment, saying yes will buy me some time.”

“Some time for what?” he questioned, watching the light spark flare in her eye.  
“To find a way out of this, to clear the loans from the property, to drum up business that won’t care two cents about what the Palmers say. If I didn’t fight Ray on this, if I let him believe that I gave in that easily then he would think me weak. If he thinks me weak, then he underestimates me.”

Oliver couldn’t help the smile brimming over his face, that was his Felicity – his perfectly stubborn mare, that he wouldn’t change for the world.

“So what are we to do about all this then?”  
“We?”  
“You don’t think I would back down from this Felicity? I meant what I said this morning, I’m not letting go of you again.”  
“Well then, we,” she smiled, “need to find some way to take the cards from Ray’s hand and deal them in our own.”

“How long till he wants to leave for New York?” he asked, his eyes darkening at the thought.  
“A couple of days, but leave that to me, I have a way to stall him some,” she replied.

His hand slid across her neck gently cupping her head in his large palm. He could sense she still carried a sliver of fear in the blue of her eyes.  
“Are you afraid of Ray?” he asked her directly, watching as she blinked away – giving him the answer he feared.  
“No, he’s nothing I can’t handle,” she replied, refusing to meet his eyes.

She would keep Ray’s advances to herself at this juncture, afraid what the knowledge would push Oliver to do.  
“Felicity, are you afraid of him?” he asked again.  
She took a deep breath and held her eyes closed a few moments longer than a blink before she opened them and looked into his searching eyes.  
“I’m not afraid of that man. Being afraid of him would be like being afraid of Jell-O,” she smiled jokingly.

Oliver saw the quiver in her lips and slight twitch of her brow. She was lying to him.  
“Did he touch you?” he voice was low and raspy.  
She tried to stem the tear that was brewing in the corner of her eye, but it slipped down her cheek unrestrained, until she brushed it away.

“Oliver you can’t act on this, you can’t do what I know you’re thinking about doing right now,” she pleaded as more tears made tracks down her silken cheeks.

Just as he could so easily read the small nuances in her face, she too could read as clear as day the anger that was brimming just under his surface.  
“What did he do Felicity?” he asked through gritted teeth.  
“Oliver, if I tell you, what do you suppose you’ll do about it? Punch him in the face, tie his leg to that horse and send it galloping down the road? Threaten him with a pitchfork?”

“All of the above,” he replied, blank of any humour in his tone.  
“And where would that land you Oliver? In jail is where and then I would still be here and unless you actually kill the fellow – which I am NOT suggesting you do, he would still be here too.”

Oliver muttered words to himself as he clenched and released his fists, eager to punch out at something.

“Oliver I need you here, with me,” Felicity calmed, sliding her delicate fingers down his arm till they reached his balled up fist where she gently unfolded his hand and placed hers atop, palm against palm and fingers interlinked.  
“I need you,” she brought him closer, pushing her body up against his, feeling the drum of his heart beat heavy against her shoulder.

“I need you, with me Oliver, please,” she whispered the words into his ear, her body pushed firm against his, balanced up on her tippy toes as her lips kissed against his burning cheek.

“You have to promise me that you will not go after Ray,” she pleaded.  
“You can’t make me promise that,” Oliver grunted.  
“I need you to promise me Oliver, I won’t see you behind bars because of a spate of jealously that sees you do something foolish.”

Oliver’s mouth tensed as his other fist relaxed and gently smoothed across her back.  
“I promise you I’ll try, and that there is the best you’re going to get out of me, but if that man so much as raises a hand you to-“ he paused, his lips tensing over the thought of what he would do.

He relaxed just a little as Felicity’s hands gently cupped either side of his face, forcing his eyes downward to look at her.  
“That dull, bore of a man is nothing I can’t handle,” she smiled before pressing her lips gently to his.

She smiled against his lips as he let out a soft, rumbled moan.  
“You could stay with me now,” she whispered, pulling her lips only a hair’s breath away from his, her softly pillowed bottom lip still touching against his.

His hands travelled up her body, taking the same paths atop her dress he had taken the night before against her smooth skin. He found himself imaging the feel of it, as his tongue drew strips idly back and forth over his bottom lip at just the mere thought of how her skin had felt and tasted.

His thumbs drew circles across her collarbone at the dip of her neck as he breathed in against her lips, grazing his own against hers as he lightly whispered her name.  
“I have to go,” it pained him to say the words, but it was mid-morning and he had a Ranch to attend to.

“I understand,” she smiled, rolling her head into the soft movements of his thumbs.  
He sighed with obvious melancholy as he took a step backwards, stretching out his arms and refusing to let his hands part from her skin.

His eyes traced across her body as he remembered how the firelight had danced its orange glow across it.  
“I wish I didn’t have to,” his words were almost silent, spoken just over the top of an exhale.  
“Oliver?” she blinked up at him, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.  
His eyes drew in, asking her to continue.  
“Will you come to me tonight?” she asked, her hands skating slowly up his arms before her fingertips touched a pattern against his chest.  
“I would come to you a thousand nights, every night you would ask me to,” he replied, his lips smiling, the joy at her request reflecting in the blue of his eyes.  
“Around half ten, the light will be off. Come to me then,” she whispered, her lips pouting as her words trailed off.

His lips brushed against her cheek in a heavenly sensation that pulled a soft breath from between her parted lips.  
“Tonight, night one of a thousand,” he smiled before backing away slowly, knowing he needed to make his exit now before he changed his mind.

* * *

  
Felicity watched the clock in the sitting room as she quietly read a book in the corner of the room. It was almost 10 and she could soon retire to wait in a darkened room for the man she loved.

She had read the same page of the book she couldn’t remember the title of about five times, her mind absent from the task, set instead on thoughts of Oliver and how much she wished to discover him with a slow moving fingertip.

So lost in her imagination was she, that she had not noticed her parents had left the room near on ten minutes ago, leaving her alone with Ray.

“I asked that you have your things packed tomorrow,” Ray spoke, pulling the book roughly from between her hands and throwing it onto table beside her.  
She snapped her head up at him, completely unaware he had been speaking for the last two minutes.

“Books anger you too now?” she quipped unfolding her feet and placing them on the ground.  
“Unless they’re cook books doll I hardly think them necessary for a dame.”  
Felicity bit her tongue, she wouldn’t waste her breath.  
“Have the maids ready your things for travel tomorrow, we will leave the following day. We need not stay in this flat tire* town any longer,” he decided as he paced the wooden floor, rolling the ice in his whiskey around the glass.

Felicity stood from the chair and smoothed the skirt of her dress down.  
“I’m afraid leaving then would be awfully rude to our guests,” she smiled sweetly, counting the seconds it would take for him to throw a glare her way.  
_Three seconds._ She almost laughed.

“And what do you mean by that?” he asked, filling his glass once more with the pungent bootlegged liquor.  
“I sent word to your mother about our engagement, she had spoken about coming to the Ranch, I thought it an opportune time to invite her. I sent a telegraph this morning, I received one after supper, they intend to be boarding the Wednesday train, they’ll be arrive four days from then,” she spoke clearly as she held back a smirk.

She hadn’t expected him to close the gap between them so quickly, but in three strides he was breathing down her neck.  
“You communicated with my mother?” he asked, his voice eerily calm as he twisted a finger through a loose curl near her face.

“Does that displease you? I thought I was being a dutiful fiancée,” she replied, swallowing the bitter taste of last word on her tongue like it was poison.  
His eyes stared right through her, but she didn’t falter, didn’t cower under their gaze. She was certain he wouldn’t raise a hand to her in her own father’s house, of that much she was sure.

“No,” he smiled backing away.  
She breathed out the breath she had been holding.  
“I can tell you’re delaying the inevitable, but I will wait,” he closed the gap again, his hand tightly against her waist.  
“It’ll make the prize ever more sweeter,” he hummed as his finger traced down the soft curve of the lace neckline of her dress.

“I’ll ask you to maintain your distance from me, as is proper,” she said stiffly, the feel of his touch like acid to her skin as she held back the desire to call out Oliver’s name.  
“And are _you_ proper Felicity? Are you _untouched_?” he growled low against her neck as he breathed her in.

She could feel her stomach churning at the sensation. She had lied to Oliver when she had tried to allay his fears, she was afraid of Ray Palmer – but neither man would know that.

“If you doubt such a thing I would grant you leave to rescind your proposal. I promise not to think poorly of you for it,” she replied coyly, swallowing down the quiver in her voice.  
She would not grant him the pleasure of seeing the fear he elicited.

He laughed boyishly, dropping his hands from her body and taking a full step backwards.  
“You think it would be that easy? If I come to find you suddenly undesirable, that still wouldn’t stay my hand as to my threats.”  
She felt his eyes slowly walking up her body.  
“Do not test me,” he grinned, pinching in against her chin, pushing her lips open, a gasp of shock purging forth.  
He pulled her closer, his fingers digging in against her soft cheeks.  
“I don’t make idle threats and I don’t share my possessions. Do you understand me?”

She poured every ounce of strength she possessed to hold back the tears that threatened escape. She was not going to be broken by such a man. A slow nod was all he would get.

He dropped his grip and skulled down the rest of his drink from the lowball glass on the table behind her. She stood her ground as he smirked and left the room. Only when she was certain he was gone did she gasp at the pain radiating through her jaw.

* * *

  
“Felicity?” Oliver whispered from outside the window, his body pushed into the shadow the roof cast from above.  
“Oliver, come in quickly,” came her response.

He climbed in the darkened room, the moon barely sprinkling it’s light on the floor beneath his feet. He pulled back the curtain, closing the room off from the outside world, now nothing more than a sliver of light breaking through into the room.  
“Turn on the lamp,” he whispered, blinking his eyes quickly in the hopes they would adjust to the darkness.

Felicity knew how she looked, the fingerprints on her cheeks had become angry red blotches, the tears had left marred tracks down her face and her eyes were drawn and bloodshot, he couldn’t see her like this. She knew what that would make him do.

“No, let your eyes adjust. We don’t need eyes when we have hands anyway,” her small hands slipped around his waist from behind, her body pushed up against his muscular back.

She led him slowly around her bed, gently smoothing his hand across the exquisite linen.  
“The bed,” she sighed into the still air around them, her breath warm against his chilled cheek as she pushed him to sit on the edge, her hand still grasping his.

Felicity cut her leg through his, pushing his legs apart and sliding her body between them. Gently taking his hand she flattened his palm onto her hip. She heard the breath escape his lips as he realised she wasn’t wearing a scrap of clothing beneath his palm.

Slowly she guided his hand up her velvety soft skin, her fingers lightly steadied atop his knuckles. His hand walked the length of her torso, his eyes adjusting enough to see the silhouette she cut in front of him. He felt a low moan crawl from his throat as his hand grazed the underside of her breast.

“And me,” she whispered against his temple.  
“That’s all you need to know. Let me feel last night again.”  
Oliver’s hands skirted to her hips, holding her tightly there, gently easing her closer to him till her could smell the subtle scent that danced across her skin.

“Felicity,” he spoke her name as if it dripped like honey from his mouth.  
“Mmm?” she smiled into the dark as her hands raked through his hair.

He kissed a dewy warm trail down into her chest, starting just below the tip of her ribcage and pausing as his lips reached her navel.  
“Tonight I have a different idea,” he hummed into her flawless skin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flat tire = boring/dull
> 
> Hope this answered questions some of you had :)  
> Also thanks for the suggestions of what you'd like to do to Ray.
> 
> #FURayPalmer


	15. Trumpet Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly NSFPR (not suitable for public reading) you may start simultaneously blushing, gushing and snorting.

“But I liked last night,” she whispered, her tone clearly one of disappointment.  
He couldn’t see her face but he imaged she was likely pouting her pinked lips – she was.  
“Felicity, you should rest, uh,” Oliver sighed, he knew the word he wanted to use, but it was not something he ever thought he would be discussing – not with her.

“I’m not tired,” she laughed softly, aware of the fact her parents were sleeping less than 50 feet away.  
He shook his head in her hands, his forehead pushed into her warm skin.  
“I don’t mean sleep, I mean,” he paused, ruminating on his words, “you’re probably sore from last night,” he breathed the words warm against her navel as his hands dropped slowly down her waist, settling against the top curve of her thigh, his hands discovering what his eyes couldn’t see – the soft, delicate fabric of her sheer black chiffon and lace panties.

The fabric moved easily between his fingers, it felt like the thinnest petal on a blooming rose, as though it would tear in his fingers with a tiny strained movement.

“I mean it’s a little,” she blushed and the awkwardness radiating from this moment, yet even with that awkwardness hanging over them it also felt natural for his hands to be holding her and his lips to be pressed against the delicate curve of her stomach.

“But it’ll be fine Oliver, I want this,” she continued, idly lacing her fingers through his freshly washed hair.  
She found herself thinking he must have bathed before coming up and she was just a little saddened she had missed it. Felicity blushed with screwed shut eyes at where her thoughts were taking her. It certainly wasn’t _very proper._

Oliver drew a circle across her hip bone, puckering the fabric under his thumb as his other large hand held her gently in place. With a light swipe up the inside of her leg he touched against her sensitive heat.

Her grip tightened against his scalp as she let out the softest of mews, her hot breath sticky against his forehead.

Lightly he smoothed a finger atop the fabric and between her folds, swirling it briskly around her entrance. She winced in his arms, her hands falling down the back of his head, her nails driving into the base of his skull.

“Okay, maybe it hurts more than a little,” she grimaced.  
Oliver resisted the urge to say he had told her so, the quip just seemed inappropriate in the circumstance.

Felicity rolled her forehead over the top of his head, sighing softly into his hair.  
“But I wanted to be with you,” she whispered, breathing in the delicate soap lingered on his hair.  
“I want that too, but I don’t want you hurting none, so I’m going to kiss you,” he smiled against body, his nose gently swiping up over her navel.

He listened to her huffing at the suggestion.  
Felicity wanted more, after Ray… She needed to feel a welcomed touch. She needed his intimacy to remind her of what hands should feel like…what love should feel like.

“I love your lips on mine, but I just,” she sighed, unable to finish her sentence.  
“You’re sore, I want to kiss it better,” he smiled, in the darkness she couldn’t see the glint in his eye.  
“My mouth isn’t sore none Oliver.”  
“That isn’t where I intend on kissing you.”

Her eyes drew inward as she went to open her mouth to speak – just as his lips breathed a heavy sigh against her mound, breathing warm, dewy air through the light weave of the paper-thin fabric.  
“Oh,” her lips formed the word, but only a soft exhale came out.

Oliver sighed through a second and a third kiss, dragging his lips further down her body till she could feel his warm breath radiating through her aroused heat. She swallowed heavily as his hands walked up either side of her thighs, easily slipping under the fine ruffled hem of the panties. He settled his hands just under the curve of her ass as his tongue drew soft circles up the centre of her core.

He looked up into the dark, seeing just the shape of her head as it eased backwards, elongating her neck. He wished he could see her face, watch her expression as he drove his lips in firm and hot against her, his hands with a soft but controlled pressure on her making sure the connection between his hungering lips and her brimming heat was never severed.

One hand pulled away from her, slipping over the top of the delicate fishnet lace at the side of the only clothing on her small frame. Expecting the waist to be elasticated he pulled down on the band, only for a tearing sound to echo through the almost deathly silent room.

“Shit,” he cursed as he felt the fabric pull away in his hands.  
“Buttons, they have buttons on the side,” she whispered, trying to stifle a laugh that would threaten to wake the house up.  
“Why would they?” he mumbled, his hands blindly searching for these illusive buttons.  
“Felicity, please turn the light on,” he pleaded, his eyes squinting to see purvey the damage.  
“No, it’s fine, it doesn’t matter.”

Oliver’s hand finally touched against the small button fastening and he let out a relieved sigh. He fumbled for a minute before the quiet in the room was once against interrupted by an unwelcomed noise as his hands easily pulled the buttons clear off the fabric sending them bouncing across the wooden floor.

“Shit, what are these things? I’m sorry, I’ll buy you some new ones,” he spoke with a furrowed brow as he raised his hands off her in surrender.  
“It’s fine Oliver, it doesn’t matter any,” she smiled, her fingers lacing into his as she kicked the torn panties under the bed.

“I mean, at least they’re off now, right?” she breathed the words gently into his ear, a low purr resonating off the final word.

Oliver stood up swiftly, hoisting her into the air with barely a strained muscle before twisting his body and laying her quietly giggling body onto the bedspread.

Felicity felt the mattress buckle either side of her as he sat on his knees, hovered over her, his face only inches from her own.  
“I want to see your face,” he whispered, peppering hastened kisses across her cheekbone.  
She closed her eyes softly, afraid of what the light would show – afraid of what Oliver would do about it.

It pained her to think that she was keeping something from him. She cared for him in ways that were so deeply rooted in her heart that even the idea of holding something, anything back from him – even if she thought it for his own good – was a bitter pill to swallow.

Words fell short of explaining what they had with each other. The foundation of this blossoming romance was one built on trust, built on friendship, built on instinct.

To hold something – even something insignificant – back from him felt like a betrayal of those things, the pain of that was worse than any Ray could inflict.

Felicity pulled a lightweight throw blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her body before she leaned across to the bedside table and turned on the dim stained glass Tiffany lamp that sat there.

She watched as Oliver’s face went from a smile at seeing her to a fallen jaw when he caught a closer look.  
“Felicity, what, did I?” the tip of his fingers reached out, grazing against the angry red marks dotted on her cheeks, they had faded some but even in the dim light they shone out against the backdrop of her milky complexion.

Her eyes too still wore the remnants of once fallen tears. Felicity caught Oliver’s hand on her face, pushing his palm flush with her cheek, she wanted to feel his warmth a little longer.

Slowly she shook her head in response to his question.  
“It was Ray, he took exception to my inviting his parents out, but,” she blinked up at him, begging him to keep his eyes trained on her eyes, “it bought us some time, we won’t leave for another fortnight or so.”

Felicity watched as Oliver’s face grew dark, the words she spoke slowly reaching his ears and tunnelling into his thoughts.  
“He did this to you?” he growled, his chest rising and falling at a level of intensity Felicity had not witnessed before.

She felt him start to rise off the bed.  
“No Oliver, no, don’t do what I know you’re considering, please,” she pleaded, tugging on his arm to hold him back as best she could.  
“He laid his hands on you Felicity, no man should ever,” Oliver’s face was stern and his hand was fisting into the bed linen.  
“You can’t leave me, I see in your eyes what you want to do, but you can’t, Oliver he knows I care for you, he’s read some of the letters I wrote you, he knows that this will draw you out. Please Oliver, this is nothing more than a game to him,” her hands stroked down his face, urging him to keep looking at her not the door to her room.

“If you go and hurt him, he will win and we’ll be pulled apart,” she pulled his head into her chest, pressing his ear against her heart.  
“This,” she whispered, her fingers lacing through his hair, “My heart, my body, it belongs to you. If you take your reprise out on him, we stand to loose it all. I can’t loose you, can you do without me?”  
“No, you’re my home,” he replied, closing his eyes to the docile lullaby of her heartbeat.

“You have what he never will, trust that is vengeance enough for now, please? Stay with me like I need you to and love me like I want you to,” she pushed the words into his damp hair, holding him tight for fear her words would not be enough to keep him there.

“You promised me a thousand nights, right now I’m asking for just this one,” Felicity finished her words with a lingered kiss atop his forehead.

He didn’t stir from her arms and she felt his body relaxing into her as she leaned over once more and switched off the light.  
“Have me as yours this night and every other after it Oliver.”

She brushed her lips into his, taking his bottom lip as her teasing toy, dancing her tongue along it, exploring it with relish. Her hands, folded around his, moved them to her breasts, holding them atop the tight knit throw. His fingers looped over the bundled knot and pulled it loose, sending it slipping from her body.

Blindly Felicity walked her body back onto her elbows, his hand under her head as their eyes adjusted to the darkness once more. Oliver reached a hand behind his body and, taking a fistful of fabric, he tugged at the curtain just enough to let a wider beam of moonlight into the room, still hiding them from sight, but now he could better see the shape of her body, the beams of light reflecting off the ceiling and the floor, casting just enough over the two lovers to light the path he would take down her body.

His lips landed softly at the top of her sternum, his body balanced above hers with most of his weight borne on his left arm. Her fingertips scouted blindly over the taunt muscle of that arm as her eyes slowly lidded over enjoying the sensual pleasure of blindly feeling her way across his body.

Felicity knew she had to keep her voice low so she gingerly pulled her lip inwards, snapping it tightly in her teeth, allowing only the smallest of sighs to pass through as Oliver slowly began kissing a path down her centre. Each kiss he placed was hopscotched with the thumb on his right hand, which gently pushed in against her as his lips raised off her.

The feeling was bordering on tantric, each move he made perfectly precise – lips, kiss, tongue, lift, thumb – repeated in what felt like a perfectly ruled line down between her breasts and towards her core.

She tried to hold herself steady, but the sensation was become too much and instinctively she raised her pelvis lifting it clear off the expensively luxurious sheets. Oliver growled his dissatisfaction at her moving as the stillness in the room was interrupted by a high pitched squeak from one of the bed frame joints.

Felicity stifled a laugh as she felt Oliver snigger on the warm flesh of her stomach, his scruffed chin tickling against the rise just above her tempered heat.  
“All that money and they still ain’t fixed that squeak,” his words pushed against her body

“You need to stay still,” his tongue licked her skin as he spoke  
“Oliver, I don’t think I can,” she panted the words, his warm breath spilling from his nose causing bumps to form across her core.  
His hand gently pushed her hip back down, his palm rested into the dip of her hip bone as his thumb drew slow and steady swipes up her velvet skin.

Felicity hummed through closed lips as he angled back on his arm, the already taut bicep flexing even tighter in her hand. Her other hand ran tracks nervously through her hair as his lips finally reached her sensitive sex. She jolted a hip under his pressed palm as she felt the first intimate kiss, the new sensation coursing rapidly down every limb in her body.

She cupped a hand over her mouth to hold in the urge to call his name. Her other hand gripped his taunt arm, her thumb absently stroking it as her nails dug in. Her mind was split, focused on the way his lips gingerly swept across her naked intimacy, and a story Macie had told her a few months back about a particularly talented trumpet player and his impressive tongue.

Felicity had buried her head into the pillow as Macie regaled her with the account. She had not really understood the look on Macie’s face as she swooned over the trumpet player… not until this very moment.

Oliver’s hands smoothed down from her hip and gently parted her legs. He smiled as her body instinctively twitched at his touch. The white light from the moon reflected from the mirror and landed angelically across her waist as he leant in once more, gently urging his tongue between her warm, brimming heat.

Felicity couldn’t hold back the gasp as her head shot up off the pillow and her free hand clawed into the mattress.  
“Oh my god the trumpet man,” she squealed loudly before she realised her mistake and buried her mouth into the crook of her elbow.  
“Felicity, you will wake the entire house up and this might be interesting to try and explain,” Oliver smiled as he replaced his mouth with a slow moving finger that gently rolled between her folds.

His brows pulled inwards and upwards as the words she had so vocally exclaimed finally came to settle in his brain.  
“The trumpet man?” he asked, perplexed.  
“Oh, um, nothing,” Felicity smiled, blushing a deep shade of red that he could, thankfully, not see.

“You’ve done uh, this before?” he asked, gently continuing to move his fingers slowly across her heat, enjoying the way her lip quivered as he moved.  
“Macie,” she huffed, entranced by the slow movements his fingers were lavishing on her.  
“You’ve done this with a girl?” Oliver exclaimed in a whisper that was louder than intended, his finger halting just below the little knot of nerves that was making her flustered.

“What? No, I,” she stammered, trying to make sense of the situation now his fingers had ceased distracting her.  
“No, my friend Macie, she once told me a story about a man who played the trumpet. I think I finally understand the story,” she squeezed her eyes shut out of embarrassment as her head dropped back onto the pillow.  
“I’m sorry Oliver, I feel like I’m ruining everything.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” he spoke softly, placing a soft kiss against her breast and gently stroking her nipple with his tongue.  
“But,” he started, enveloping her breast with his lips before gently sucking in against it.  
“Maybe.”  
A second kiss moved just underneath her breast.  
“We could.”  
Two more kisses down her chest before a swipe of his tongue into the dip of her hip.  
“Leave your friend and her trumpet playing friend.”  
She felt the heat of his breath radiating through her sex, urging him closer with her mind, desperate to be transported back to the heavenly euphoria he had shown her moments ago.  
“Out of it from now on,” he finished, his lips sucking in against the apex of her mound as his eyes travelled up her body, watching the shadows of her face as she nodded her head against the stark white background of the pillow.

Resting his palm onto her hip bone, his other hand now tucked up under her lower back, he gently eased her lips apart with his tongue, tasting her slowly, savouring the intimacy only they shared in her darkened bedroom.

It was not lost on him that he had fantasised about doing that exact thing since he had watched her dance light touches against herself all those weeks ago. The realisation surpassed the fantasy.

His eyes watched as her nails dug into the blanket beside her hips, her other hand draped across her forehead. Her breasts formed two perfect mounds rising up and down in the limited light as her chest panted through the wave of pleasure he was relishing giving to her.

Felicity’s knuckles were turning white as her grip on the linen tightened. She felt every prolonged movement he made, long slow wipes interjected with the softest of kisses that felt like feathers against her sensitivity. She breathed his name, barely above the smallest of whispers, enjoying the way it felt over her lips as she licked her tongue through the ‘l’ of his name, lightly tickling against the inside bow of her top lip.

Oliver could hear the almost-silent way his name fell from her lips, as though it was her own little secret he was overhearing. It drove him to kiss her deeper, take all of her as his own like she had asked.

Without a voice he mouthed her name into her pulsating heat, taking his time with the ‘lis’ sound of her name, using the motion of the syllable to scoop in against her bundled nerves, enjoying the way such a movement would send her hips ritualistically grinding into his palm.

He would gently roll her hips back down before starting the cycle again. She writhed faster as his tongue skirted around her entrance, still sensitive from the night before. He could feel his shaft stiffen in his pants as he allowed his mind to focus on the intoxicating sensation of sliding himself slowly into her and the way she felt so perfect around him.

Felicity had trusted him with her body and tonight she had once again offered her heart. He knew that he would walk through fire, swim a thousand lakes and survive whatever trial he needed to, to ensure that he kept that heart safe. She was his, in as much as he was hers.

He felt her pelvis rise slowly as his tongue gently moved through her entrance, her walls tightening around him. He held his palm steady against her hip, but let her rise gently off the bed, rolling his other hand over to massage into her ass.

His name fell more rapidly from her pouted lips as she pushed her head deeper into the pillow, feeling every quarter inch he moved down inside her. Each second he spent gently sliding in and out of her felt like a blissful eternity. The uncomfortable pain that had radiated from her entrance when he had first touched his fingers to it was gone now, replaced with a growing warmth that twisted in her core and filtered out in every direction, wrapping her in pleasure.

Oliver could feel her tightening around him, her walls spasmed inwards, crushing against his tongue as soft, pleasured whimpers filled the silence in the room. He could tell she wanted to moan louder, to let herself go, but they couldn’t here and now. He determined to hold this moment in his memory, to let her one day feel this again at a time where she could truly let herself go, but for now he bathed in the sweet muted sounds dripping from her lips and the warm flood of sweetened pleasure that coated his mouth.

Felicity felt the final wave inside her brim up and spill over, her mind was blank – all thoughts and feelings were replaced by the overwhelming orgasm he had pulled forth from her.

The story Macie had told about her trumpet player was discarded now, replaced instead with Felicity’s own story of her time spent in a darkened bedroom, between expensive white sheets on her bed that still squeaked with her Oliver and his wonderful kisses that made everything better.

* * *

  
It was nearing dawn when Oliver pressed a lingered kiss onto Felicity’s tempered forehead. She sighed with contentment at the gesture as she buried her neck deeper into his shoulder, basking in the absolute safety she found in his arms.

“I have to go,” Oliver breathed into her temple, his hand lightly playing with wisps of her silk locks.  
“Stay a little longer with me, I’m afraid I’m not yet ready to let you leave,” she replied, looking across at the rising shadows around her room as she pressed her naked form into his almost naked one, a pair of cotton boxers being the only wall between their bodies.

“Dawn will come soon, and that will bring the early risers. I won’t be able to leave without being seen,” he explained, drawing idyllic patterns on her arm which lay over his solid chest.  
“So be seen,” she pouted, knowing in herself that was not an option that would be without untold consequences.

“I promise to hold you from sunset to sunset when we’re free to Felicity, but for now I have to leave.”  
She wanted to object as he slowly slid his arm back from under her and slipped out from under the gentle weight of her arm across him, but she could tell the decision to leave was not one he wished for them either.

She sat up in the bed as he climbed easily over her, planting his feet down on the wooden floor with a louder than expected creak. Holding the high thread count sheet flush across her chest she studied him closely as he replaced his clothes.

“Felicity, I need you to promise me something,” he said, slipping his feet into his boots as he perched on the edge of her bed.  
She rolled towards him, her hair a mess of fallen curls around her peached cheeks.

“Well that depends, a lady never promises something without know what it is first” she smiled laying her chin on his shoulder as her fingers looped over the silver chain that hung around her neck.  
“I need you to keep distance between you and Palmer, don’t let him be alone with you, I can’t rightly stand the thought of it . You stayed my hand this time and it took almost everything I had in me to do as you asked, but it’s a heavy toll that I ain’t paying again. If he lays a finger on you again Felicity there won’t be any holding me back none. I won’t stand to see you like last night again,” his hand gently cradled her head, his thumb lightly brushing over where the marks had once been, but now where just slightly discoloured pigment remained.

“I understand Oliver,” she replied simply, twisting her finger through the nape of his neck.  
“And promise me you won’t ride that horse he got you,” he asked as he folded his hat back onto her head.  
“Are you jealous Oliver Queen?” she smiled, kissing into his unshaven jaw.  
“That horse was raised to fear people bigger than you, it’ll throw you the first chance it gets. It ain’t it’s fault none, but it’ll happen all the same. Promise me?”

He looked at her closely, studying the soft sweeping curves of her beautiful face as his hand traced over the path his eyes took.  
“Aye Oliver, I promise,” she replied leaning her head into his palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to Oliver's tongue.... MVP


	16. Merry Widows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's long.  
> So is he.  
> I'm not sorry.

  
“Did you sleep well?” Donna enquired of Felicity as she took a seat at the breakfast table, a little late but fresh from her early morning shower  
“Quite well thank you,” Felicity blushed, idly spreading the jam across her toast and praying no one could read her thoughts.

“It sounded like you stirred a lot during the night,” her mother continued as she sipped slowly on the freshly meshed tea.  
Felicity pushed her lips together, holding back the smile that was threatening to give her away.  
_Oliver kissed me – a lot – and not on my mouth._  
She cursed her brain for taking now to flood her mind with flashbacks, the mere reimagining of it in her mind sending a rushing pulse down between her legs.

She could do nothing to answer her mother, afraid if she opened her mouth something ill thought out would spring forth.  
“I heard it too, I almost ventured across the hall to see what the noise was,” Ray piped in, chipper for the morning and in front of company – all smoke and mirrors Felicity had come to realise.

“I, I don’t recall. I’m sure I slept soundly,” she finally spoke, burying her vision into the food on her plate, her knife still spreading back and forth across the toast.  
“I distinctly remember you speaking loudly about a trumpet,” Ray spoke as he leant back in his chair, wrapping his arm across the back of Felicity’s chair, a thumb sweeping over the base of her neck.

Felicity snorted abruptly, sending the knife clanking to the floor. She fisted her hand and pushed it against her lips to stifle any more loud noises as she faked a cough.  
“I suppose I must have been dreaming,” she coughed surreptitiously.  
_Or Oliver was playing me like an instrument_  
“Oh god,” she whimpered quietly.  
“Is everything alright Lyss?” Ray asked, the movement of his thumb across her neck pressing in harder, possibly to elicit some reciprocation.

She cringed at the name he had settled on to call her, she despised that nickname.  
_Not every name needs to be shortened._  
“Uh, fine, yes, I just um realised I don’t much feel like eating toast, I’m going to see, uh, in the kitchen.”  
She stood up before anyone had a chance to inform her that there were at least three other options for breakfast already on the table.

Felicity almost sprinted from the room and down into the kitchen, which thankfully she found empty as she pushed her body up against one of the walls and expelled the laughter she had been holding in – almost painfully so.

The release from the laughter was cathartic but it did little to stem the arousal she was feeling from just the images swimming around in her head.

Being intimate with Oliver was like a drug to her system, one she was hooked on the moment his hands touched against her naked skin. She wasn’t sure she could ever truly verbalise the way that moment in the barn had felt but it was as though she finally felt in control of something – her body – and that his hands on it made her feel alive, an instant spark that awoke desires she had held at bay so easily before him, but that spark was now crawling under her skin, desperate for her to release it.

Felicity let her eyes close slowly, desperate to see the images floated across her lids. She could feel his tongue, wet between her folds. She could hear the soft, low growl he made as he took all of her in – lapping up everything she gave him.

She could feel each slight of hand he made against her skin, the heat of his palm pressed against her hip, the roughness of his kneading in against her ass cheek and the delicate dance his fingers made across her sweltering skin.

Felicity wanted that again.  
She licked her lips absently. Her breath became rapid and her throat became dry as she felt herself become wet.

“Felicity,” a hushed whisper chanted in her ear.  
She smiled, imagining the sound was a beautiful gift from her subconscious.  
“Oi, Felicity,” a little louder.  
Not from her mind.  
Her eyes shot open to see Oliver standing in front of the half-open Dutch door in front of her.

Judging by the smile that was plastered across his face, Felicity felt it was as if Oliver knew what she had just been imagining.  
“What are you doing here?” she smiled, scurrying to the door to close the too-large-for-her-liking gap between them.

He opened the lower part of the door, grabbed her hand and pulled her outside. Pressing her firm against the outside wall his lips pounced on hers, scooping her up with a fevered lusting. His tongue swept across the seam of her lips, silently begging for entrance into the warmth of her mouth.

She obliged without restraint, sucking in against his tongue eager to make him groan pleasurably. Her efforts were rewarded moments later when she felt the low hum of his voice reverb against her lips.

“I missed you,” he panted, pulling away softly, allowing her to relax her back against the hard wall he had pinned her against.  
“I’ve been walking back and forth around here for probably too long to be considered normal, just hoping I could catch a glimpse of you,” he said openly, his words baring the thoughts on his heart so openly.

The back of the house was shrouded in a curtain of trees, hidden from virtually every angle of the property and it was not a place one would venture out without purpose, the washroom or the hunting shed the only reason to be out there.

“I missed you too,” Felicity smiled, pecking a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth.  
“In the kitchen, you were thinking about something that was making you smile,” Oliver smirked.

Felicity dropped her head to her shoulder, blinking up at him, flashes of that devilish Oliver she had always been fond of were slowly creeping back into his personality – in stark contrast to the Oliver who had so abruptly pushed her away the day she had returned.

Still, she saw a sadness in his eyes. There was still so much she didn’t know about him and there was one thing she had yet to ask him, fearing her speaking on it would cause him to withdraw from her.

“Aye, I was thinking of you,” she breathed, taking his hand into her own and gently stroking a finger down the inside of his forearm.  
“Oliver, I want to ask something of you,” she spoke quietly, mulling over the request in her head.  
“You know I’ll hear anything you ask of me,” he replied, melting at the soft sensation of her finger across his flushed skin.

“Will you take me to where your father is buried? I feel like it would be right to pay him my respects,” Felicity watched Oliver’s face as she finished asking the question.

His lips folded over, his eyes pulled inward and his chin dropped to his chest. She felt his hand stiffen in her palm.  
“I don’t think so, I don’t reckon I can,” he replied, shaking his head softly side to side.  
“I’m sorry, I just thought,” her voice trailed off – truth was, she thought he would trust her enough to show her that vulnerable side of him.  
“I’m sorry, it was wrong of me to ask,” she sighed, aware of the tension that seemed heavy in the air.  
“No, it ain’t something for you to be sorry over. I just-“ Oliver huffed, his annoyance was at himself alone.

“I haven’t been there myself since we buried him and I ought to be ashamed of it,” he spoke softly, a slight quiver in his voice.  
“Emotions aren’t something to be ashamed of Oliver. When you’re ready, if you ever are, I’d like very much to join you if that’s alright, don’t worry none if it’s not,” she offered a smile as her hand swept across his cheek.

“Maybe we could go tonight, after supper but before the sun has gone,” Oliver offered, his hand now clutching onto Felicity’s.  
“Aye, I’ll meet you at the stables as soon as I’ve washed up from supper.”  
Oliver nodded as he backed away, both of them intrinsically aware they were playing with borrowed time having no one discover them yet.

Felicity nodded, brushing a smooth kiss across his lips.  
“Will you think of me some more?” Oliver asked as he started to walk away, the same smile from before peeking across his face.

She shrugged coyly as she watched him tip his hat and disappear down the slight hill into the pine trees.

* * *

  
Felicity drew long controlled brushes down the hind of Mala as she hummed a smooth jazz song she adored quietly to herself. The stables were quiet, most workers returning to their lives and homes outside of the Ranch. Few lived close by and there was two small rooms in the main house for the help if they were needed into the night, but by in large it was this time that Felicity found the most calming.

She had excused herself early from supper under the pretense that she wished time to practice her riding before the guests arrived in three days. Ray had not questioned it, knowing his mother was an avid watcher of dressage events, something he knew Felicity had excelled at in the clubs of New York.

Felicity has assumed Ray was under the impression that she would be riding the stallion he had bought for her. She had offered nothing to the contrary, but no confirmation of that wrong assumption either.

She had promised Oliver that she would not ride that stallion and as he reared at the wall of his stall, Felicity knew unreservedly that Oliver’s appraisal of the horse was correct. It looked magnificent and regal on the outside, pure high-class breeding ran through its veins, but it was unstable and volatile. Felicity has decided that black horse was a fair symbolism of Ray and she would ride neither.

Felicity giggled openly to herself at her choice of words – not a word of a lie in either case.

“Something funny?” a whispered voice spoke into her ear from behind, the lulled dulcet tone sending a rush of excitement down her spine.

She craned her neck to the opposite side, her hair a tousled crown of golden waves flowing freely down her shoulders.

Oliver swooped in on the elongation of her neck, peppering warm kisses across her pulse point, humming approvingly of the sweet scent lingered just below her ear.

“We should go before we lose light,” he breathed softly against her skin, his nose lightly pushing in against her.  
“We should,” she smiled, looping her arm around the back of his neck, her small fingers nesting into the nape of his hair

* * *

  
The gravestone was a solid 20 minute ride up a steep mountain path along the western side of the property, in land owned but not used by Verdant Ranch due to its rugged nature. When they reached the plateau of the rolling mountain range the view itself was breath-taking.

In all her years spent roaming the land they looked down upon, Felicity had never ventured up this high along the eastern range. The air seemed cooler up here as the wind swirled up a breeze through her hair, sending wisps of hair whipping against her flushed cheeks.

The long grass swayed around them as she drew her eyes down to the white-washed concrete gravestone jutting out from the ground. Three crosses sat grouped together about 10 feet away – those belonging to Mister Fenwick and his two sons.

It was a beautiful view with an air of sadness running through it.

“This place is beautiful,” Felicity softly gaped as she dismounted and patted Mala gently down the neck, rewarding her for the effort it took to get up there.  
“It feels like a lifetime since I saw this place, I should have come back sooner,” Oliver sighed, his actions mirroring that of Felicity’s.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you then Oliver, as your friend, please know I would have had I have known,” she spoke softly, interlinking her fingers with him, a gesture which he rewarded with a squeeze of his hand.  
“But thank you for letting me be here now,” she smiled before pressing a soft kiss to his stubled cheek.

Felicity reached into the tanned leather saddle bag beside her and pulled a small bouquet of wild flowers she had spent the afternoon collecting. The brightly coloured bluebells and the sprigs of baby’s breath were intertwined with cream lilies and a scattering of yellow daisies.

Without a word the two of them, their pinky fingers hooked together in an innocently tender display, walked towards the gravestone. Stopping a few feet away Oliver took a moment to inhale the crisp, fresh air that was prevalent up there.

Felicity, sensing Oliver needed a moment alone, kissed his cheek once more before moving to the side of him and slowly walking towards the other unkempt graves.

Mister Fenwick had died without leaving behind anyone who would visit him or his sons up here. The idea that the graves lay untendered and the men that they represented went on almost unmissed was heart breaking to her. Laying the flowers into the long waving grass she set about clearing the wild bush that was twisting its way through the gravestones, while she kept one eye on Oliver who had now sat down amongst the grass.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long Pap, I should have come sooner, come more, but I don’t much like missing you like I do. You’re missing a lot Pap. Thea don’t remember much, I try tell her about you as much as I can. Walter is a good man, he looks after them well, treats Mam like a man should,” Oliver paused his words, rolling his hands over each other as his elbows tucked around his knees.

He took a moment to glance over at Felicity, watching her as she tendered to the crosses of men she barely knew.

“You once told me the mark of a man is how he treats a woman, the one he don’t care for much he ought to treat kind regardless, the one that’s his family he treats like precious treasure, always holding it close and looking for its value. But the one that he loves, a man ought to treat her like his life is measured in her smile, his breath is found in her laugh and his heart belongs in her hands. I never knew what you meant Pap, but I understand it now. Felicity holds my heart and I give it to her freely. I just hope I’m the man she deserves.”

Oliver’s eyes grew downward, glancing up only briefly as the sun began to set around them, banding the sky with hues of orange and pink.

In a moment where his guard came down and he allowed himself to grieve, Oliver’s eyes grew wet with tears that slowly made their path down his cheeks.

He cried for his father, the moment he waved him off at the train station forever embedded in his mind as the last time he had seen him.

He cried for his mother, the moment she collapsed to the ground when she learned of Robert’s passing.

He cried for his sister, too young to remember the man who had rocked her gently on the porch of their house during long fall nights.

He cried for his friend Tommy, who was living a life removed from a man he called his father through no fault of his own.

He cried for Laurel, living a life that was borne from spite and seeped in foolish pride.

And for once, Oliver finally cried for himself – for everything he had lost, for each choice taken from his hands. For the years he spent wondering why life could take so easily with both hands and give nothing in return.

He cried for every tear he had held back.  
He cried for every moment he had scorned himself for things out of his control.  
And he just cried.  
For no reason.

He felt the warm embrace of Felicity’s arms as they wrapped around his sobbing body. Perhaps for a flickering moment he felt shame at the way he allowed himself to cry, but as her breath soothed against his wet cheeks, her chin resting on his shoulder and her body pressed tightly against his back – he allowed himself to feel her comfort, to take what she offered him – without shame and without restraint.

Oliver Queen allowed himself to need someone, to be weak – and in that, he was strong.

That night Oliver crept in through Felicity’s window once more, but the two simply lay together in calm silence. With their fingers interlinked and their bodies swarmed in close together there was nothing else needed from the night.

It was in that quiet comfort, his blissful serenity, that Oliver offered up a few more words to his father, spoken only in his mind.  
_I know you gave me the best example of what a man ought to be and I hope to be half the man you were. I’m not sure what you’d say to me right now if you heard these words of mine for real Pap, but as certain as the sun rises and sets each day is as certain as I am that I will marry Felicity Smoak. She’s my light in the dark, my rest when I’m weary and my comfort when I’m home. Keep her safe, if ever I can’t._

* * *

  
***Three Nights Later***

“And you’re sure no one saw you?” Felicity asked, her legs folded as she sat on the top of the bedspread, her eyes wide as she looked down at the little rectangle tin sitting between the two of them.

Before he could answer she picked up the box of ‘ _Merry Widows_ ’ and stared dubiously at them.  
“The name doesn’t bode well now does it?” she smiled, screwing up her nose as she read the very explicit warning that they were sold “ _For the Prevention of Disease_ ”.

Sex for anything other than procreation was still greatly frowned upon and never really spoken of in anything other than hidden meanings and innuendo. Prophylactics – as semi-polite company would refer to them – were advertised as a means to avoid any rampant diseases, certainly not to embolden the growing sexual freedom of the unwed.

“No one saw me,” Oliver finally responded, folding his hands over each other, “because I sent Tommy in,” he continued, refusing to make eye contact with Felicity.  
“You sent Tommy in to buy us, these?” Felicity asked, her face a mix of horror and embarrassment.

“Well I wasn’t going to ride two towns over like you suggested, that would have taken me almost all day and he wanted to know why I needed his car. He said he likes buying them, ‘cause he likes the look of retracted horror on the drug store owner’s face when he does,” Oliver shrugged, smitten with the blush of pink in the apple of Felicity’s cheek.

“He knows about us?” she asked, her tone a more serious one.  
“Aye, but we can trust Tommy, he won’t speak to a soul about it,” Oliver scooted across the bed, closing the gap between him and Felicity, his hand desperate to allay the fear that was peeping on her face.

She smiled and nodded trustingly. She knew Oliver didn’t trust people lightly, he trusted Tommy well enough with this, then she would too.

“So I guess we have these now,” Felicity smiled, folding her lips over each other, the dimly lit lamp beside the bed dancing its light across the package.

It would be their last night together, for the foreseeable future at least. Ray’s parents were due in Starling tomorrow and would be staying at the guest accommodation across the way from the estate house, the main living room of which looked directly towards the tree Oliver would climb to get into Felicity’s room and the front porch of the same house was easily spotted from Felicity’s window. Should anyone happen a glance over to the house at the right time they would for a certainty see Oliver sneaking in.

“We ought to use them,” he nodded down towards the packet still in Felicity’s hand.  
She pinched her lips together and handed the Merry Widows back to Oliver before she stood from the bed and slowly pulled on the tie that bound her dusky pink satin night robe together.

It dropped slowly down her arms, pooling like a glistening puddle on the floor around her feet. Oliver couldn’t help but gulp down the burst of sudden excitement that pulled up from the depth of his stomach. Had he have known she was wearing that underneath he would have been speechless the moment he stepped in the room.

Felicity pouted her pink-toned lips into a gently parted smile as she watched Oliver’s eyes widen and his fist absently grab into the bed linen.

She smoothed her palm down the sheer fawn-coloured satin and lace negligee that was not something one could simply find in a department store. It had lived in a small cream box in her trunk since Macie had bestowed the gift upon her at the train station the morning she left New York. It had been purchased from Paris especially for Felicity from her friend – apparently ordered the moment Felicity had spoken of her desire to return to Starling and her hopes that Oliver would still be there.

A note had been placed in the box that simply read:  
_For you and your ranch boy._

Felicity felt the cool whip of the night air from the opened window brush against her nearly naked skin, although she was unsure if the goose bumps that followed were as a result of that – or simply because of the look of delight on Oliver’s face as he studied every inch of her.

“You look, really,” Oliver stammered, “really.”  
“Oliver, you’re blushing,” Felicity winked, perching her knees against the side of the bed, willing him closer.

Oliver slid across the bed never taking his eyes off her for a moment as he placed a leg either side of her body and let his hands drift slowly up her legs, his thumb playfully toying with the lace hem of the negligee.

Felicity cupped his head in her hands, stretching him up as she bowed her head to scoop his lips onto hers. The kiss was heated, framed with a desire that each one was hungering for. They had not been together in such a way since their first night together and after the following night he spent lavishing her in ways she hadn’t imagined, the next two nights had been about something different.

They had been about finding comfort, finding enjoyment in the quiet of it and finding the perfect way their bodies fitted together as they lay down.

Tonight however was to be different again. There was an unbridled way his lips crushed against hers and an unrestrained lust invoked as Felicity’s tongue pushed along the seam of his lips. They needed to feel the heat – they needed to feel the fire.

Oliver’s hands roamed her body, scouring each inch with deep touches and feathered fingers. He wanted to feel every part of her, memorise how it felt in his hands, how it spurred his skin to move faster across her. The spark when he touched her pricked through his skin like a drug, he needed to know, to feel, every single part of her.

He twisted his body, pulling her onto the bed beside him, her body willingly collapsing as his lips moved from hers, devouring each inch it took to get down to the curve of her neck. Her soft pants and low hums encouraged him to suck at her neck with greater fever.

“Oliver,” she whispered, combing her hands through his hair, melting against the warm, dewy attention of his hungering lips.  
“Don’t tell me I’m sore, don’t ask me if I’m sure, just take me, I need you to,” she breathed into his ear before her teeth scraped gingerly at his earlobe.

Tonight Felicity would let herself go. There would be no questions needing answers, no thinking on stories others had told her, no inhibitions, no awkward uncertainty – no, tonight she would have her Oliver, fast, desperate and purely for illicit fun.

“I won’t,” he growled into her neck, his tongue sweeping across her, drinking in the soft beads of sweat that had begun to glisten against her skin.

He abruptly broke away from her, his eyes spending a moment to scour across her body as he licked his lips at the feast that lay before him. For all the tenderness and the gentle way he wished to handle her there was also a growling appetite to fill her completely, to feel her body stretching around his, tightening against his cock as he drove himself into her, giving her a pleasure that was impassioned and tenacious.

Oliver’s hands sunk in under her arms before he effortlessly hoisted her up the bed, her head lying crooked across the pillow, her hair a tumbled mess of blond silk. He watched her chest rising and falling, her pebbled nipples tenting in the sheer fabric and the pink of her areolas caught in the light from the lamp.

He pushed the negligee up her body, relishing the way her body felt softer against his fingers than even the finest Parisian material that the slip was made of. She arched her back and lifted her arms and shoulders to allow Oliver to take the slip clear off her body, without a care to its cost he tossed it down the bed and pressed his lips against her naked chest.

Felicity mewled at the sensation of his soft lips against her naked stomach, entwined with the light graze of his stubble across the same path that he kissed up towards her breasts. She caught her lip in her teeth to stop her words coming loud from her mouth as Oliver veered left and instantly took her breast into his mouth.

Her fingers clinched in against his shoulder as he rolled her hard budded nipple around his tongue. He gave no release to her burgeoning heat as he moved his hand up between her thighs touching the dewy warmth under the tiny strip of fabric that was made in a country unashamed of its vicarious nature.

Oliver’s hand pushed in between her folds, hoping that the same would not show she was still sore from their first night together.  
“Oliver,” she moaned between slightly parted lips, “your hands, your tongue, your-“ she paused cupping his thumping erection in her hand.  
“I want it all.”  
Oliver smiled at her words – she was certainly a woman blooming into someone who asked for exactly what they wanted.  
She was his anything but a lady behind the bedroom door, and the realisation of that made him crave her even more.

His mouth covered her breast, heaving warm breaths against it which made her back arch in pleasure. He sucked in, pulling her breast deeper into his mouth, feeling the little bud push in hard against the roof of his mouth, the soft tissue of her breast concaving to fill his mouth. It was a rush of satisfying arousal as she gently writhed her body underneath him, her wet folds seeking friction against his calloused but loving hands.

His mouth dropped her breast with a low pop before he hurriedly moved to the right to repeat the tantric attention paid to the other breast.

His teeth took her hardened nipple this time, lightly pinching it as his eyes watched the response spill across her face. Her mouth gaped and her head rolled back, her fingers eagerly searching their way into his pants, desperately grabbing at the erection threatening to break through the inseam of his pants.

“Felicity,” he mumbled as her nails dug in through the fabric of his pants, clutching his cock and stroking it rapidly up and down.  
“There’s a zip,” he smiled against her breast before sucking the soft tissue in once again feeling it swell inside his warm mouth.

“I can’t,” she panted, her hands like jelly as she tried to even remember how to work a zip – her mind now fully engulfed at the attention Oliver was heaping on her.

His mouth still ravishing her breast, Oliver undid the fly on his pants and pushed them down to his knees where Felicity’s foot caught them, dragging them down the rest of his legs, until finally Oliver could kick them free.

Felicity clawed at his shirt next, desperate to feel his hot skin pressed heavily against hers. She wanted his fire, she wanted his weight – she wanted it on top of her and she wanted it now.

She sighed as she brought it only half way, her soft whimpers begging Oliver to finish the task.

He sat up, yanking the tee clear from his scorching body. He took the opportunity too to release his cock from the confines of his boxers as she too removed the only clothing left on her body. The relief of his erection springing forward was almost instant – as was the look of sheer delight on Felicity’s face.

“Go now,” she urged, lifting her pelvis off the bed.  
“Soon,” Oliver whispered as he leant down beside her ear, feeling the dripping heat between her folds with his hand.  
She pushed herself against his hand, beckoning him in closer.  
“Please Oliver, I need to feel you inside me,” she almost begged, her voice weak and desperate, but her hands strong and needy.

She took his shaft into her palm, pumping in up and down rapidly, pushing her thumb over the ridge of the head as she came up under it. She watched with quiet excitement as Oliver’s eyes suddenly rolled back – his mind also flittering away like hers had done when his tongue had so lustfully entered between her folds nights before.

Felicity took his throbbing member and placed it at her dripping entrance. Her brain flickered for a moment into thinking of the slow burning pain she had felt the first time he had filled her, but it was quickly replaced with something far more pleasurable as he took his time to ease his way inside her.

The feeling was encompassing – her walls stretching out to accommodate him, feeling each tiny ridge of his shaft as he settled inside her. He paused halfway, searching her face for any signs he should stop and allowing her body to adjust to the sensation.

Felicity swallowed the pleasured cries she wanted to make, still aware she could not be as free as she would like with people in rooms nearby. She lifted her hips slowly, slipping him inside her deeper. The pain was tangled in the way her body spread for him, pulling the smallest of gasps from her parted mouth, but it was overshadowed by the crashing pleasure rampaging through her body. Her eyes wanted to see him joined to her in a way she never wanted another man to be. She watched the light dance across his chest as her eyes blinked down his body seeing the scattering of hair that trailed down from his navel, the trail disappearing into a small sea of sandy blonde.

She watched with intense blue eyes as Oliver took her invitation to continue his advancement inside her, pushing himself deeper, taking each second of delight her tight wall contracting against his engorged cock gave him. He needed her lips on his as he plunged deeper, her breathy moan caught up in his mouth as his lips crashed against hers, messy and wet, catching her bottom lip with his.

He wanted to taste every moan she gave him, feel each hot breath forced from her nose against his flushed face and he wanted to enjoy each quiver her lip made against his as he filled her right to the hilt, snug inside her rich wet warmth.

Oliver wanted that moment to last a lifetime, his body fully connected to hers and her body surrounding him. The intimacy of the moment stole his breath, brought back only when she ground her hips against him, shifting him inside her. He hummed his pleasure at the move, the sound of his enjoyment stirring her to shift again, this time with a slow roll, pushing his head against a spot inside her that drove her to the edge of her pleasure.

Slowly Oliver pulled out, once again relishing the clenching her walls made around him, half out he pushed back in, steadily filling her again. His paced stayed level, gently easing in and out, letting her body shift underneath him to accommodate the movement. His hand tracked between her folds, lightly toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves as they continued to kiss, thirsting for every kind of connection between their bodies that they could make.

Oliver’s paced quickened as did Felicity’s breath as his lips fell to her neck kissing hot and heavy lips into her fired skin.

A soft glisten of sweat littered their bodies as soft pants held back screams.

She muttered his name as the rhythmic movement of him inside her and the joint sensation of his thumb rolling over her bundle threatened to send her flying. Oliver watched as her eyes fluttered closed and her head rolled around the pillow. He felt her grip on his shoulder tighten as her thighs pulled together, smooshing in against him. Her body tightened around him and her teeth snatched in her bottom lip.

“Let go, let me feel you let go,” he whispered into her ear.  
His hot breath, his low voice and his chant like words were all the encouragement she needed.  
“Oliver,” she sighed into the still night as her body let go.

The rush was electric, coursing down every limb and branching out to the tips of her fingers and toes. Oliver felt her walls spasm around him as he caught her cry of ecstasy in his mouth, blanketing it with his lips to hide it from anyone else – it was his to enjoy.

Her lips quaked against his as wave after wave of her warm release coated him inside her, his movements in and out slowed to savour the sensation of her orgasm pulsing against his warm slick cock…Oliver closed his eyes, balancing himself on the edge as he quickened his pace inside her, his body almost there… his shaft growing in expectation….his very naked shaft….No _Merry Widow_

The realisation of the feeling hit him, he hadn’t put a condom on. Oliver withdrew like lightening, leaving Felicity whimpering at the sudden emptiness as she curled her knees to her chest still stirring through her crashing release.

Oliver grabbed the first thing his hands could reach, seconds before he found his own release all over whatever it was he had grabbed. He shuddered through it, riding it gently, wishing he was inside her warmth as he watched her sighing out her pleasure, tiny drops of beaded sweat pooling between her breasts.

When he was fully spent he glanced down, his thoughts becoming less clouded as he came down from the height. He had emptied himself all over her fawn coloured negligee.

“Shit, sorry,” he huffed, falling down beside her, his body struggling to catch his breath.  
“Oliver, you really need to stop ruining my underwear,” Felicity smiled through lidded eyes as she rolled towards him, gently folding her naked body around him while she basked in the after glow of all Oliver gave her.

Oliver let his eyes close as his arms embraced her, he would leave before sun up, but for now he lay there, held in the comfort he felt beside her. His home.

* * *

  
Three cars had been sent to pick the Palmers up from the train station sometime before noon. It was nearing 12:30pm when those three cars returned, slowly rolling to a stop down the unpaved driveway.

Felicity looked up from her comfortable seat on the porch, the midday sun streaming across her as she sat quietly reading there, her mother nearby while her father attended to moving stock and Ray barked orders at a very patient John Diggle about where exactly the badminton net should be placed  
“They certainly don’t travel lightly,” Felicity mused as she watched the drivers step from the three vehicles.  
Donna looked up from the society pages of the newspaper and nodded slowly.

Felicity watched as the first car doors were opened and the quiet, but ever so slightly dim-witted Mrs Palmer was first to step from the car. Felicity had no unkind words to say about the women, she had clearly been chosen as a wife due to her Family name over any smarts she might possess – given, from the few interactions Felicity had with her, she struggled to find any smarts at all. However she had never spoken an unkind word in Felicity’s presence and had always held herself with a quiet charm.

However, Mrs Palmer was always overshadowed in her presence by the very pretentious Mister Palmer Senior, who, just as Felicity could have predicted, stepped from the car second behind his wife and promptly stood his large and imposing frame a whole foot in front of her. Felicity had never seen them walk side by side, never watched a mutual exchange of admiration. In their image she saw what her future with Ray would look like – it was nothing short of abhorrent to her.

The second car housed unexpected extras, an older gentleman and lady Felicity only recognised in passing as people she was sure she had met before but could not place. The man wore his grey hair proudly, his wife equally so. He offered her the crook of his elbow and she took it. Clearly they came from money – him in his fine tweed suit and her in a full skirt and billowed blouse – but there was something easily different about their interaction over that of the Palmers – they seemed to genuinely care for one another.

The third car’s door opened and a small waif of a girl, no older than 12 stepped from car, her head was hung low, her clothes brown and plain, sewn on a machine that did not cater to fine silks and lace. She was not of the same class as the other and Felicity did not recognise her at all.

A noise from inside the car startled the poor girl and she reminded Felicity of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car – the poor thing look scared witless, but Felicity couldn’t figure out what on earth for. Until, the last passenger from the convoy stepped out and it all made sense.

The very prim, the very proper and the very rich, Miss Mary Palmer – Ray’s beloved twin sister.

Felicity cursed under her breath so as to not cause her mother a fainting spell at such vulgarity. Mary Palmer was, in Felicity’s view, incredulously worse than her brother. She was spoilt, vindictive and cruel – but worst of all she was incredibly adept at hiding those last two traits behind a veil of sweet words and perfect skin.

Felicity had not counted on Mary Palmer joining them, this was most unexpected.

* * *

  
The pleasant introductions were over as the crowd mulled around the mown field, the men playing a lively game of badminton while the wives engaged in casual, harmless banter about homewares and the finest imported Italian fabrics – Aunt Matilda joining with them despite her unmarried status.

The older couple were friends of the Palmers, the Rankins. The man was a retired investment banker who had decided to join them at the Ranch for a few days, with a view to then moving on to their son’s ranch a state over which reared prized horse stock. Horses that were reared, trained and sent overseas to race in fledging horse races across the world. According to the cheerful candour of the man, Felicity got the distinct impression he was unreservedly proud of his son.

Felicity sat on the wooden slated chair, her eyes gazing across the field to the stables wondering whether Oliver was inside.

She sipped slowly on the fresh lemonade that beaded cool droplets down the tall glass, the clear awkwardness of sitting next to Mary was heavy in the air between them. The young girl that had accompanied Mary spoke very little and always with her eyes downward. Her name was Bethany, her mother worked for the Palmers and Bethany was ‘learning the trade’ of waiting on rich people during her break from school.

Mary had described it like she was doing the young girl a favour, but Felicity knew that would be so far from the truth you couldn’t see one from the other.

“So this is a quaint little place,” Mary remarked, leaning her head back against the chair, tipping her wide brimmed hat just a little further forward.

“And by quaint do you mean some sort of insult Mary?” Felicity quipped.  
“Always looking for the worst in people Felicity, such a shame,” Mary pouted her rogue coloured lips sarcastically.  
“It is awfully easy to spot it when you’re around,” Felicity shrugged, she had never bothered with the pretence of liking Mary Palmer, she had always and would always maintain that you did not befriend a snake.

“Brother tells me he will have that mouth of yours under control in no time,” Mary smiled, waving sweetly to her mother who had glanced their way.  
“Your brother is mistaken, my mouth is not his to control.”  
“Whatever, this is tiresome,” Mary announced, standing from the chair.  
“Fetch my brother, tell him I’m bored. I want to go riding,” she instructed Bethany who scooted off the minute the words had left Mary’s mouth.

* * *

  
“I want to ride that one,” Mary smiled, her arm looped over Ray’s as the two strolled through the stables

Felicity’s eyes moved to where Mary’s finger pointed – the stall of the Black Stallion Ray had bought her.  
“That’s Felicity’s engagement present, she shall be riding it Sister,” Ray smiled, patting Mary’s gloved hand.

“I won’t be, that horse seems agitated at best Ray, I don’t think it a good idea for either myself or Mary to ride it,” Felicity replied.  
She had for a moment considered letting Mary take it and then trying not to laugh gleefully when she was thrown from it, but she could see what Oliver’s response would be to her knowingly putting Mary, a lady not much bigger than herself, on the back of a horse he had expressly warned her about.

“I’m not afraid of a horse Felicity, you might be, but I am not. I have been riding horses in country clubs since I was a toddler and you were mucking in on a farm,” Mary smirked, the presence of only herself, Ray and Felicity allowing her true colours to shine out.  
  
“Felicity, there is nothing wrong with this horse, it’s a magnificent creature, the best of the best,” Ray interjected, leaning up against the stall gate.  
“I don’t doubt that you paid and were given the best of the best Ray, but look at the horse, he is stamping his hoof, his eyes are blown wide and he’s grinding his teeth. This horse is bad tempered because of the way it was reared, I don’t think –“

Ray held up his hand to silence Felicity.  
“Fine, if you don’t want to ride him, Mary will,” he interrupted.  
“Ray, I don’t think-“  
His hand shot up again.  
“Nothing more to say on the matter,” he announced.

* * *

  
The wives and Aunt Matilda had retired to the house to take their tea on the sun drenched porch, leaving Noah, Mister Palmer Senior, Mister Rankin, Ray, Mary and Felicity to take a riding tour of the expansive property.

Felicity had noticed Flash was not in the stables as she mounted Mala and for a moment she wondered where Oliver might be – she missed him, having not seen him since he left through her window early morning.

As she settled into the saddle she yelped slightly at the tenderness of her body which she had not noticed until that moment. It had only been the second time her and Oliver had made love and while it did not hurt the same as it had the first time, their confidence and eagerness to explore each other had meant it had been rougher – a fact Felicity was only now coming to realise.

“Are you alright, you look like you’re in pain?” Ray asked, it would have been a question a fiancé would ordinarily ask out of concern, however Ray seemed to ask it out of annoyance at her purported fragility

“I’m fine, I think I must have slept funny,” Felicity replied, folding her lips together to hold back the smile threatening to break out.  
“Do try to look less pained, you’re embarrassing me,” he replied, leaning over to speak the words close to her ear.  
“I’ll make sure I have the pain tendered to tonight, so as to not cause you any further embarrassment tomorrow,” Felicity smiled dutifully.  
_Perhaps Oliver will kiss me better, in the places you will never see._

Felicity turned her head to watch as Mary mounted the saddle atop the black stallion. The horse shifted uneasy, grounding his hoof systematically into the dry ground under it and rolling his tongue over the bit placed in his mouth.

“Ray, I don’t think that Mary should be riding that horse, can you not see how agitated he is?” Felicity again tried to reason with him, Oliver’s warning playing in her head.  
“Nonsense, Mary pips you on riding Felicity, she has a crop, she can control the animal.”  
“It’s not about control Ray, it’s –“  
He didn’t let Felicity finish as he trotted his horse over to Mary and they walked towards the others waiting.

“Come along Felicity,” Ray called over his shoulder.  
She huffed her annoyance at the whole thing, but followed as they trotted down towards the lake.

Her father had taken the route along the eastern side of the mountains as it was the least taxing path on the horses and their riders, but gave an overview of the land sprawled out in front of them.

Felicity had caught a moment’s glace at Oliver who had briefly tipped his hat to her as they cantered past the stock bathing in the cool of the lake, Oliver sitting atop Flash in the midst of the large beasts, ensuring none got into trouble.

The group reached the landing of the hill, the men discussing the values of such property, Mr Rankin deciding that one could put a house atop such a place and be gifted with 360 degree views, beautiful in their nature.

Felicity caught, just in the corner of her eye, the moment that Mary lost control of the black stallion. It was turning in tight circles, rocking its head back and forth and twitching its hind legs. She was about to say something when she saw Mary raising the riding crop, but words didn’t come quick enough and the instant the leather hit the hind of the animal, it took off down the hill in a thunder of galloping hooves and shrieking.

Felicity heard the commotion of the men as they realised what was happening as she rode Mala down the hill at a galloping pace in an attempt to catch the stallion up. The stallion was at least 80 pounds more muscle than Felicity’s much younger, much smaller mare and simple maths taught her there was no way she was going to catch up to that horse.

She looked up towards where she had spotted Oliver, he too had seen the predicament and was walking Flash through the cattle to not spook them, given a stampede from such beast would easily trample both himself and Flash in less time than it would take him to realise it.

When he was clear of the cattle, he took a moment to anticipate where the stallion would head and his eyes were drawn towards the fence along the boundary that would take the horse clear into open fields – where there was not a chance of stopping it before it threw its rider.

Oliver decided in that moment to steer the animal towards the pine trees in the hopes that would slow it down enough. He whistled his commands to Flash who reacted almost immediately, breaking into a gallop without hesitation.

He shifted his weight, rising off the saddle to move with Flash, pushing him further, faster as he approached the stallion on the left, Flash swerved into the path causing the stallion to alter its course, slowing it’s gallop to adjust. Oliver paid little mind to the rider, his eyes fixated on the stallion. He weaved Flash closer, slowing the beast another step or two.

Finally turning to the rider he offered an outstretched hand. Oliver knew there wasn’t a chance of slowing the stallion without it throwing the young woman atop it, to move her mid gallop was the only way to ensure no broken bones or worse.

“You need to come across, take my hand,” he instructed, fully confident she wouldn’t weigh a pound more that Felicity and he could lift her easily.

Mary nodded, a sweep of dark hair banded across her face.

Felicity could see them up in front, she could tell what Oliver was preparing to do. Lord help him if he couldn’t hold her and Miss Mary Palmer was hurt in anyway.

She watched as Mary took Oliver’s hand, and with a strength she knew Oliver possessed he plucked Mary from the stallion, wrapping a steady arm around her waist until he was satisfied she was seated safely in front of him.

With a low whistle Oliver slowed Flash, watching as the stallion bucked as it reached the thicket of trees.  
“Are you alright Miss?” Oliver asked the brunette.  
“Thanks to you I am,” Mary panted, holding a white gloved hand to her chest.  
“But I’m afraid I feel a bit weak,” she swooned, dropping her head against Oliver’s chest.  
“Let’s get your feet on solid ground Miss,” Oliver replied, slightly uncomfortable at the attention.

“Oliver, is everything okay?” Felicity asked, genuinely worried as she halted behind him, the other riders following suit moments later.

“I’m fine, I owe it to this hero,” Mary smiled sweetly as Oliver helped her dismount Flash.  
She found her footing before she stumbled purposefully, falling against Oliver, forcing him to hold her up.  
“My hero,” she blinked her dark lashes and pouted her red lips as most in the group looked on with smiles.

Except Felicity, there was not even the making of a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Merry Widows was actually the brand name of some condoms in the 20s. You're welcome for that new knowledge.
> 
> Also me thinks Felicity is jealous....


	17. Promises

“It weren’t nothing, anyone else would have done the same in the circumstance, Miss,” Oliver replied helping Mary gain her balance, his strong arm set up for her to lean on.

“Mary,” she smiled, her hand firmed against his chest.  
“Miss Mary, it wasn’t a problem.”  
“And humble too, what a rarity,” she spoke, her deep rogue lips turned up into a smile at the corners as a sheer-gloved hand gently touched against her porcelain face, pushing a wisp of jet black hair behind her ear.

“Oliver, the horse,” Felicity incepted the conversation, pointing into the wooded area where the stallion had caught its reins on a low branch as was violently whipping its head back and forth.

Oliver glanced up at Felicity and immediately saw the pinched look on her face, although he was at a loss as to why.  
“I’ll fetch him back, not a problem Miss,” Oliver responded, flicking the brim of his hat in an almost salute.

“No don’t, you mustn’t go near that brut,” Mary pleaded, catching his arm and smiling as she gave his muscle a little squeeze.  
“Really, Mary, let the boy do his job,” Ray growled as he walked his horse next to Felicity, in a move that made Felicity think he ought to just pee on her to mark his territory and be done with it.

“It’s no mind, Miss, some horses just need a kind hand to know they can trust you,” Oliver’s words were meant for Mary, but his eyes stayed on Ray.  
“Utter nonsense, you don’t train a horse with kind hands you must let the horse know who its boss is.”  
“With all respect due to you Mister Palmer, I would say that reasoning is why your stallion is so agitated that he’s going to do himself an injury,” Oliver spoke roughly as he pointed his finger to the horse still flailing against its confines.

“What would you know about horses, you work a cattle farm and sleep in a barn?” Ray laughed, his father following suit.

Oliver held back any words as his fist clenched, not for himself or any insult that lumbered excuse for a man could throw his way, but rather because of the image still clear in his mind of Felicity’s face, bruised under Ray’s hand.

Felicity noticed the slight tick in Oliver’s brow long before anyone else would have paid it any attention. She knew him like no other, Oliver was preparing to throw a punch.  
“Oliver, the horse,” Felicity said, trying to snap him from his narrowed path.

He looked up at her and caught the worry in her eye, she knew exactly what thoughts were pulsing through his mind. Their eyes spent a few moments arguing back and forth, Oliver’s narrow gaze begging for permission to knock Ray out; and Felicity’s pulled in brow absolutely refusing the request.

With a tip of his head, he turned before any more words were spoken and walked towards the forested trees, muttering under his breath.

“That was a rude thing to say, especially in front of company,” Felicity scolded Ray, knowing he would not speak unkindly to her at this moment, given the eyes narrowed in on him.  
“The boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about Felicity, that’s merely all I said,” Ray replied, lightly tapping her knee in a gesture that was solely meant as a condescending one.

“That _boy_ has been raised amongst working horses, I have seen him ride a wild colt with nothing but a rope for reins, a wild horse that he then trained and my father sold for a small fortune. That _boy_ rides a horse that follows him not out of fear or duty, but out of trust. A horse that responds to vocal cues only from Oliver and a horse that, despite its lack of pure blood or snotty New York training, was able to catch up to _your_ ill-tempered horse,” she huffed, glad to get all of that off her chest – and she did thoroughly enjoy watching the pretentious smile drop from Ray Palmer’s face.

“Oh my, would you look at that,” Mary exclaimed clapping her hands softly together as she pointed towards Oliver who was standing in front of the large stallion, his hand pressed against his nose.

The horse was no longer raging and was almost deathly still as Oliver untangled the reins and gently eased them over the horses head.

The stallion bucked a little at the intrusion, but relaxed as Oliver ran a kind, but firm hand down the horse’s front leg. The horse silently lifted its front leg as Oliver gently urged. Moments later the leg dropped down and Oliver rubbed a strong hand against the stallion’s neck in a show of praise.

Grabbing the loop of the reins under the stallion’s bridle, Oliver walked it back towards the group.

“Your horse has thrown a shoe. You’re welcome to get a second opinion given it’s your impression I don’t know all that much about horses. Simple folk that I am,” Oliver replied smartly.

Felicity caught the chuckle in the back of her throat and was about to say something when Mary spoke up.  
“Oliver, that was amazing, I’ve never seen anyone so in tune with a horse,” she gushed, blinking her perfectly rimmed blue eyes.  
“Indeed, that was mightily impressive to watch young man,” Mister Rankin finally spoke up in his expressively cheerful manner.

“Have you had no formal horse training?” he asked, his white speckled moustache twitching as he spoke each word.  
“No Sir, my father taught me most of what I know, watching horses taught me the rest,” Oliver replied, stroking the neck of the stallion who now appeared completely at ease.  
“Well now, that is most impressive indeed, something my son would be most interested to hear and see if you don’t mind me telling him about you young man.”  
“If your son is inclined to hear it, it’s no worry to me that you tell him.”

“Felicity, give Mary your horse, you can ride with me till we get back,” Ray abruptly announced, “you can see to the horse can’t you Mister Queen?”  
“Absolutely,” Oliver replied, the dislike in his tone change glaringly obvious.

Oliver looked over at Felicity whose face was caught in a look of dread at the prospect of riding close to Ray, she knew there would be unkind words spoken into her ear about her little outburst and she didn’t fancy hearing them.

“Why don’t you ride my horse back Miss Mary, I assure you he’s as nice as they come,” Oliver said, raising his hand to help Mary mount the saddle.

Mary took it with a battering of eyelashes and a softly pouted smile. While the rational side of Felicity could see why Oliver had offered for Mary to ride Flash – and she ought to thank him given the alternative – she couldn’t help but feel a stabbing pain of jealously watching him slowly adjust the straps on the stirrups and hand her the reins to – in essence – his best friend.

Not even Felicity, in all the years she’d known Oliver, had been given the opportunity to ride Flash alone, without Oliver either riding with her or walking along beside. _He had never trusted her with that – but Mary – he trusted her?_

She tried to quell the stupid thoughts bouncing around her head. He had done it to save her riding with Ray, there was nothing more to it – and still, a part of her absolutely hated seeing it.

“Fine, whatever, we should get back to the house,” Ray muttered, clearly flustered by the attention Oliver was getting.

“Oliver, there must be a way I can thank you,” Mary smiled as she settled into saddle as Flash uncharacteristically seemed a little bothered by her presence, though he settled when Oliver patted him down.  
“Really, there is nothing to be said for it.”  
“Nonsense, you should come for supper, I’m sure mother would love to hear about this adventure,”  
“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” Ray piped in.  
“I would love to hear more about your methods of training horses young man, I find it intriguing,” Mister Rankin commented.

“I’m sure Oliver has better plans,” Felicity added, as much as she would love to see Oliver tonight, she couldn’t bear the thought that Mary would see him too.  
“I understand you may view it beneath you to eat with the help Felicity, but we are not all like you,” Mary retorted, shooting a vapid glance over her shoulder at Felicity.

Felicity’s mouth gaped, but she had no words – that weren’t curse ones – to reply with.  
“Oliver, we’ll be sure to set a place for you at the table, it would be a privilege to have you dine with us,” Noah spoke up in his usual stoic tone.  
“Thank you Mister Smoak for the invitation,” Oliver started, once again planning on turning down the offer.  
“It’s settled then, I shall see you tonight Oliver, my charming hero,” Mary winked, touching a finger to his jaw.

Oliver barely noticed her, his eyes trained on Felicity who looked almost pained.  
“It’s settled then, dinner is on the table at six Mister Queen, my wife doesn’t fancy late comers, so we’ll see you before then,” Noah instructed, his tone ever slightly more jovial as he spoke of Donna.

Afraid at appearing rude, Oliver nodded, accepting the invitation as Noah started the group heading back towards the house.

Felicity wanted to say something to Oliver, but all she could do was glance at him over her shoulder as she rode away.  
_This was going to be a most unpleasant evening._

* * *

  
“Oh thank god you’re in here,” Felicity sighed, leaning up against the stable doors as she looked back towards the house to see if anyone had followed her.

“Ray hasn’t let me out of his sight, so I probably only have a few minutes before he sends his sister’s slave girl to find me,” she babbled, rolling the stable door closed to afford them even a little privacy.

“Ray has a sister?” Oliver said, as he brushed down the second of the horses they had taken out that afternoon.  
“Mary,” Felicity sighed, shaking her head as the connection he had clearly missed.  
“Mary is Ray’s sister?” Oliver stopped brushing, surprise locked on his face.  
“Mary is Ray’s _twin_ sister.”  
“That surprises me.”  
“Why? She’s awful.”  
“I mean she seems nice and pretty.”  
“And pretty? You think she’s pretty?”  
“Hey come on, you know what I mean, she doesn’t look so awful.”  
“Because she should look like a witch with a boil on her nose? Well I tell you that’s what she looks like underneath Oliver.”

“You sound jealous.”  
“I am not,” Felicity paused, folding her lips over each other, “should I be?”

Oliver smiled as he closed the gap between them, cupping a hand to her face.  
“Felicity, I will never give you any reason to be jealous, what we have, it’s perfect. I can’t do any better than perfect with you,” he spoke the words as close to her lips as he could get, dancing his dewy breath over her lips, his eyes trained on hers without even blinking.

“I can’t stand the idea what you’ll be looking at her tonight,” Felicity sniffed, ashamed at the jealously coursing through her veins even after his words brushed against her lips.  
“Why would I ever look at anyone else? I intend to spend my whole life looking at you.”

Oliver finished his words and scooped her lips up onto his. Felicity’s knees buckled at the passion held within his lips. Every thought, every worry and every fear was washed away by his lips pressed to hers.

Her hands grasped at his neck, pulling him down further, pushing his lips deeper onto her lips, her mind almost afraid that air between them would sever the moment. She needed him completely in that moment, she needed to feel every part of her body pressed against his – and without her needing to say a single word, he knew she needed that too.

Oliver’s arms fitted snuggly against her waist, his fingertips stretched out across her back, pulling her closer, ensuring that their bodies moved as one.

As their lips slowly parted, needing the air to fill their lungs, Oliver tilted her chin upwards so their eyes met.

“Felicity, I love you. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? There will never be anyone else that will catch my eye. You’re the woman that I love,” he spoke each word softy, meant only for her – his own whispered promise that she would be his always and forever – and without a word of a lie, Oliver Queen meant it.

“I love you too,” she replied, touching a light finger to his temple, dancing near his eyes as they pulled her in.

She believed every single word he spoke – because she knew the same about him.

  
The rattling of the stable door broken them apart, hands dropped to the side, Oliver quickly turning back to his task and Felicity stepped backwards, pushing herself against the stall wall.

“So if you could see to Mala’s saddle this week, I’d be thankful for it,” Felicity stated, pulling out the first thing that came to mind.  
“Not a problem Miss, I’ll take a look,” Oliver replied, hiding his smile at the matter-of-fact tone she had so abruptly adopted.

“Am I interrupting something?” Mary asked, tapping her crimson nails against the white wood frame.  
“No, I was just asking Oliver here to see to something. Did you wish to see me?” Felicity asked, subconsciously taking two steps further away from Oliver, toward Mary.  
“Actually I was hoping to have a word with Oliver, that is if you don’t mind sharing him?” Mary smiled, walking up to Felicity and laying the same manicured hand on her shoulder.

“Oliver is not mine to offer to you,” Felicity replied, watching Mary with hawked eyes, “However, I’m sure he has work to do, that would be interfered by idle chatter.”  
“Felicity, I didn’t pick you for such a villainous boss,” Mary pursed her lips together in a red, twisted smile.

“Miss Felicity is right, I do have much to catch up on,” Oliver interjected, garnering an ‘I told you so’ look from Felicity, directed at Mary.  
“I promise it’ll only take a moment of your time,” Mary stepped away from Felicity, close the three or so steps between her and Oliver.

“You can go Felicity, unless you feel you need to stay?” Mary smiled, placing her chin onto her shoulder to glance back at Felicity.  
“Of course not. Good day Oliver, we shall see you tonight,” Felicity nodded cordially, doing her best to hide the scowl threatening to appear on her face.

Felicity trudged to the door, stealing a moment to look back just as Mark placed a sweeping caress down Oliver’s arm.

* * *

Oliver closed the door of the barn with a heavy sigh, it had been a long day and he was desperate for a bathe and a clean change of clothes. The sun had been hot today, the work had been hard and tedious. Mary had asked him for lessons, a request he felt he could not abide by and had turned her down, though he doubted she would relent that easily.

He hung his hat on the nail on the back of the door and headed towards the loft to search for something presentable enough to wear to dinner.

Taking two stairs at a time he reached his ‘room’ in only a few steps. It was just after the last one that she appeared from behind the wall, pulling him by the suspenders roughly up against her, her lips crushing in against his in a flash of blonde hair.

She took him completely off guard as she shoved him towards the small bed he had barely seen much of since spending most nights with Felicity.

 _Felicity_ he pulled away to be met with her gleaming smile as she pushed him back down into the cot.

“What are you doing?” he stammered as she crawled up between his legs.  
She shrugged, her focus firmly on his pants. With furrowed frustration she yanked at the buttons of his suspenders, freeing them with little ceremony before turning her sights to the fly of his pants.

He caught her wrist, snapping her attention up to him.  
“Felicity, what are you doing?” he quizzed, noting the sadness locked in her eyes.  
“I’m returning the favour, so let me be,” she replied, returning to her task involving his pants.

Before he could speak again, she had yanked his pants down to his knees revealing his plain steel grey cotton briefs and crawled into the gap between his bundled pants and his exposed briefs.

Felicity bit her lip as she dove her hand right under the waistband of his briefs, grabbing a handful of his slightly aroused member.  
“Felic-“  
She caught the rest of her name with her lips, her chest pushing up against his as she frantically tugged at his shaft, rolling it haphazardly between her fingers.  
“What is this?” he moaned against her, his voice strained and breathy as she clutched him in her fist  
“This is how it’s done right? Do you want me to take my top off?” she asked, licking a path down his neck.  
“I know I’m a little inexperienced, but I’m a fast learner,” she whispered, nibbling the lobe of his ear.

She slid back down his chest, sitting on her knees she pulled his cock out from behind the curtain of fabric.  
“Oh god,” she gaped, once more surprised by his girth.  
“It’ll fit, I can open pretty wide, it’ll fit,” she mumbled, convincing herself on the physics of it all.  
“Felicity, can you please tell me what is going on with you?” he asked, propping his body up on his elbows.  
“I’m going to give you a beejay,” she smiled, her tongue snagged between her teeth, “they call them that here too right? Macie told me about how guys go crazy for them, so…get ready,” she tried to wink, but there was a flicker of panic in her eyes as she titled her head to fully appreciate what she was working with.

“I don’t think that’s a good…” he started to warn her as she leant her head in close to his crotch.  
He saw her back arch as she gagged and pulled away.  
“I’ve been on a horse most of the day Felicity, I came back to bathe,” he sighed, watching as she cupped a hand to her mouth, her head frantically shaking.

“No, no, it’s fine, I want this, I can do this,” she nodded, leaning in once again, screwing her face up in grimace.  
“Felicity, stop.”  
“It’s fine, I’ll just hold my nose,” she shrugged, squeezing her nose between her thumb and forefinger.  
“Then how will you breath?”  
“Through my mouth,” she replied with a distinctive throaty voice.  
“Just one question, am I supposed to swallow what comes out? Maybe two questions, because what does it taste like?” she babbled, her nostrils still pressed closed.  
“Why would you think I would know the answer to that?”  
“You’re right, I should ask Tommy.”

Oliver stood up, folding his erect cock back down into his briefs before tugging up his pants.  
“Wait, you don’t want me to? I’m sorry, it was the Tommy thing right?”  
“Aye that and the picture of you holding your nose, and also because it seems like you’re trying to prove something that no one asked you to. You want to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?” Oliver asked, pushing a finger gently to her forehead.

“Seeing you with Mary,” she huffed out a breath.  
“I thought we went over this,” he smiled, taking a seat beside her.  
“Oliver, she’s a whole lot of things I’m not, seeing her touch you,” she screwed up her face at the mental image, “I just wanted to make you think about me.”

His hand gently slid up her flushed cheek, lacing her fingers through her tumbled hair. Scooping her head towards him he laid a tempered kiss on her lips, brushing over her pouted bottom lip before tenderly licking his tongue across the seam of them, pulling the kiss deeper.

Her lips quivered at his touch, anxious in the vulnerability she had shown before him. His lips pulled back slightly, ghosting breaths over her softly parted and pinked lips.  
“She’s not you,” he whispered, the words brushing against her lips as he spoke them, his forehead pressed to hers and his fingers still twisted through her hair.

“I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it Felicity, there isn’t another person on this planet that would take my eyes away from you.”  
His hand folded into her left hand, his lips twitching in pain at seeing the ring on her finger.

She blinked down, seeing what he had seen.  
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, pulling it from her finger and banishing it to the pocket of her dusty pink chiffon blouse.

Oliver kissed the blank space, desperate to make his lips touch against the scarring memory that ring held.

He stood up and walked slowly over towards the trunk that held most of his worldly possessions. Opening it, he moved his hand around for only a few moments before he came up with the old red and white terry cloth he had kept for years.

Felicity’s face lit up when she saw it bundled in his hands, time had faded it and the edges had started to fray, loose threads trailing off it, but it was just as she remembered it and if she thought about it long enough she could still feel the warmth of it in her palms as she carried the fresh biscuits to him each morning – her childish mind hoping that maybe that morning would be the one he would finally see in her what she saw in him.

“Felicity, I know there isn’t a lot that I can offer you in life, but what I can give you is my heart,” he spoke his words softly, his finger wrapping around a loose thread on the cloth.

Carefully he pulled it free and unraveled the white thread from his finger. Looping it over her ring finger his cloudless blue eyes looked up at her.  
“I will marry you and I suppose this is me asking if you’d marry me,” he shook his head softly, grinning over the fumbled delivery.  
“I ought to have worded that better,” he smiled, dipping his head as his tongue swept idly over his lips.  
“You said it perfectly,” she replied, her beautifully lined eyes unable to confine the glistening pooled tears in the corner of her eye, “you really mean it?” she asked, afraid he would regret it the moment she left.

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life Felicity, I would leave with you today if I thought you would or I would wait a lifetime if you told me I needed to,” as he spoke, his fingers tied the smallest knot, so the simple white thread wrapped around her finger like a wedding band, the knot like the finest of diamonds in her eyes.

Felicity fell against him, the tears finally springing from her eyes as her hands wrapped tightly around his neck. He held her just as tight, his arms firmly across her back and his hands snug against her waist.

“So is this you saying yes?” he asked, his warm breath carrying the words to her ear.  
She nodded against his shoulder, peppering small kisses against his neck.  
“Yes,” she finally spoke the word, pressed hot against his skin and mixed with her happy tears.

* * *

  
It was near to half five when Oliver, clean and smiling, knocked on the estate house. He was ushered inside where, as he removed his jacket, he caught sight of Felicity across the room. A vision in loose tumbled curls and a gold dress that cast the image of an angel.

She was smiling her soft pink lips at him, her feathered lashes fluttering lightly against her pale skin. They were sharing a secret only they knew and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched her toy with the ring on her finger – knowing that underneath it lay their promise to each other.

He wanted to walk up to her and take her body into his arms. He wanted to kiss her lips like he had down in the barn as they lay quiet on his cot, drinking in the wonderment of just being in each other’s arms.

He had told her everything would be okay as she had pressed her head against his chest, memorising his heartbeat. He had promise her that they would find a way out of the circumstance life had so cruelly placed them in. They would get married and live the life that they wanted – warm and safe in each other’s arms.

Hanging his coat up Oliver took a few steps into the room – his eyes trained only on Felicity – before he was accosted, a hand linked through his arm and a soft jerk pulling him of course.  
“You simply must meet my mother,” Mary smiled, drawing lines up his arm as she watched him cast his eyes back towards Felicity.

Mary was no fool, she saw what everyone else tried to ignore. It didn’t bother her – it would make the victory all the more sweeter.

* * *

 

Finally stealing a moment away from idle chatter with folks he would never ordinarily be found in the same room with, Oliver managed to meet Felicity in front of the unlit fireplace, a distance of a few feet like a painful crevasse between them – but the distance was necessary.

“You look beautiful,” he said through almost closed lips.  
“Thank you,” she smiled graciously before turning her body towards the painting hung above the mantle in an attempt to conceal her lips – and her words – from anyone else in the room.

“I will struggle to watch you at dinner tonight Oliver,” she spoke softly, sipping the water from her crystal glass after she spoke  
“You have nothing to be jealous over,” he sighed, glancing up at the painting so he wouldn’t look longingly at her.  
“I meant because I’ll be picturing you naked,” she smiled, cupping her hand over her mouth, to stifle the chuckle she couldn’t help but let out.

Oliver swallowed down the desire he had to gape at the words that had come from her mouth, but as his eyes drifted over the arch of her back and the sweeping curve of her ass his mouth started to salivate and he could say nothing in response to her, scared that his words would give them away.

“I still intend to return the favour Oliver,” she dare not look at him, her eyes firmly affixed on the painting above them, but her hand eager to just touch ever so slightly against his.

* * *

  
The dinner was midway through the main course when Oliver felt something sliding slowly up from his knee, hidden by the long crisp white tablecloth it took him a few moments to conclude it was a hand as it reached his upper thigh and rolled in against his flaccid cock. His eyes blew open when he felt the slow pulse of a palm nudging in against his shaft.

He could see the fingertips peeking out from under the white curtain, painted a rich crimson. His head snapped to the side, catching the slight raise of Mary’s eyebrow as she leaned in closer beside him.

Felicity saw the slight lean Mary made and while she had the utmost confidence in what Oliver had assured her, she decided to send him a message of her own.

Her hands still casually slicing away at the perfectly prepared beef she toed off one shoe and, without looking at his face she walked it out towards the opposite side of the table where he was sat.

Oliver’s face grimaced as Mary’s hand gripped into his cock. He batted it away as subtly as he could, trying to not draw any attention their way, but she simple smiled briefly at him before nestling in against his area once more.

Oliver felt the slow trace of something skating up the inside of his leg, coming up from his ankle. Immediately he looked across the table at Felicity who was wearing a beautifully playful smile on her face. She blinked up at him as he tried to shake his head, inconspicuously trying to warn her.

She looked at him curiously, smiling at the perceived shyness of his actions, assuming he was worried they would get caught, but Felicity paid him no mind as her toes rubbed up against his thigh – and his hand, placed high up his own thigh.

The hand caught her foot and she smiled at the pressure pushed into it.

Mary held the foot tightly in her hands, she knew exactly who this belonged to…but, just to be sure, she gave it a firm squeeze, twisting the toes harshly.

Felicity yelped at the pain, banging her knees on the underside of the table as she pulled her foot back. She caught the look of horror on Oliver’s face and she also caught the glint of sheer delight on Mary’s.

“Everything okay dear?” Donna asked from down the table.  
“Yes fine, I just bit my tongue is all,” Felicity lied, glancing up only momentarily to see the grin still plastered on Mary’s perfectly porcelain face.

* * *

  
“You’re an idiot if you don’t think they’re fucking,” Mary whispered into Ray’s ear, her fingers kindly straightening his lapel.  
“Language dear sister,” Ray replied coyly, adjusting the cufflinks under his jacket as all in attendance paced around the expansive room at the end of the meal.  
“As for them,” he nodded towards Oliver and Felicity, chatting in front of the large porch window, “I have it taken care of.”

Mary craned her neck over her shoulder, catching the slight touch Felicity’s fingertips brushed against Oliver’s hand.  
“Oh brother, how did I end up with the brains and the looks? Your dear Felicity Smoak is a taken woman, she has been with that ranch hand, probably right under your nose,” she smiled, flicking the tip of his nose.

“You see the lingered looks,” she spoke softly walking around the back of Ray.  
“The way her hand reaches for him without even realising it,” she whispered the words in his ear before moving her chin to his opposite shoulder.  
“Watch the way his tongue swipes across his lip, imaging kissing her, slowly taking her. He’s probably had her in every way already, she’s probably cried out his name as he’s felt her crumble around him…”

“Enough,” Ray growled grabbing Mary’s wrist, pulling her from the room down an empty hall a few feet away.

“Personally I don’t understand why you’re set on her,” Mary shrugged as Ray released her wrist.  
She watched her twin pace a small line back and forth in front of her  
“Tell me you don’t actually love the girl, argh Ray.”  
“I want what I want. I get what I want,” he replied with a snarl – it was not love, it was control

“And you want her because she will look presentable enough on your arm? You can parade her around like the young beauty that she is to show your prowess as you bed whichever jazz singers or secretaries that take your fancy,” she smiled as his lips turned up in the corners, “seems I can still read your mind dear brother.”

She paused, sipping back on her drink as she leaned up against the embossed wallpaper and placed her glass on a hall table beside her. Her brows arching, keenly pausing before she spoke again.  
“However, if you were keen on taking her virginity, that ship has sailed I’m afraid. She is no longer virginal, I would bet money on it. I bet he is an exceptional lover,” Mary chuckled to herself as she placed the stem of the black cigarette holder between her lips.

Ray pulled a monogramed silver and brass lighter from his pocket and lit the tip of her cigarette.

“I warned her about what would happen, she wouldn’t test me,” Ray spoke, the a low calm in his voice starting to waver.  
“With what brother, what are you holding over her?” Mary asked, a twinkle in her blue eyes.  
“Everything her family has worked for,” Ray growled under a heated breath.

Mary’s eyes rolled mockingly as she puffed on the lit cigarette, sparking the tip into ember-red  
“She’s playing you dearest brother, stringing you along until she can find a way out, all the while she steels moments alone to spend with him.”  
“What would you suggest I do about it then?” he asked, wringing his hands over each other.  
“Do you remember Franklin?”  
“My pet ferret you threatened to feed to the hunting dogs? Of course I remember him.”

A wicked smile drew across her red lips.  
“You cared about that wretched overgrown rat and I used that to my advantage to make you do what I wanted.”  
“What’s your point?”

Mary inhaled and blew out a puffed cloud of smoke.  
“Find her ferret,” she smiled, raising a meticulously groomed eyebrow as she hooked her arm through his.

She guided him to the doorway of the room, availing them of a view straight at an Oliver and Felicity, who were still engaged in a charmed conversation.  
“It shouldn’t be too hard for you to figure it out. What does she treasure the most? What makes her smile?”

Ray’s face tensed as he watched them with scrutiny. He knew what her ferret was…he knew her treasure, her weakness.  
“And why this advice sister, at what price does it come?”  
“Leave me him,” she licked her lips and pointed a manicured finger subtly at Oliver, “at least until I tire of him, then you can do as you wish.”

* * *

  
Felicity watched with enamoured blue eyes as Oliver was engaged in a conversation with Mister Rankin across the room. She could tell by the animated way he was speaking that Oliver was being afforded the time to speak about something he cared very deeply for – despite working on a cattle ranch; Felicity had always known his heart lay with horses.

She felt a hand brush away her hair from her shoulder as cold lips pressed in against her warmed skin. Her body stiffened against Ray’s unwanted advances, her eyes desperate to stay on Oliver.

“Did I not offer you enough of an incentive to not play me like a fool?” he breathed into her ear, the feeling of it sending a shiver down her spine.  
“I see the way you look at him, the way he looks at you,” Ray’s voice ran cold against her skin.  
“When you ransomed my parents’ livelihood, my payment to you included where I was to look,” she replied bitterly.  
“You will never speak to me again in the manner you did today.”  
“You ask for my tongue too?”  
“Still so much spirit in you,” he smiled, walking a hand down her arm, “don’t forget my associates in New York Felicity, I hold more cards that just your parents’ ranch. I know you recognised them the instant you saw them.”

Felicity swallowed the hitch in her throat – he was right, she had recognised them the moment she had seen them in his office the weekend before she had left New York and returned to Starling.

His breath lingered heavy and damp against her skin as she recalled the night like it had only been yesterday.

   
**Early March 1924**  
**New York City**

The two girls stood huddled under the black umbrella on the 142nd Street staring across at the bright lights of the _Crimson Club._

“Why are we here Macie, the rain is like a storm and this dress you made me put on isn’t covering much,” Felicity sighed, pulling down the hem of the dress as two guys in peacoats whistled at them.  
“It’s your last Saturday night in the City, and that there is one of the best clubs around,” Macie spoke over the pelting rain.

Felicity studied the name and instantly got the connection.  
“Dammit Macie, that’s the club Ray bought into ain’t it?”  
“The dull man ought to be of some use Felicity, grant a poor girl from Wisconsin a night of debauchery with her best friend.”

Felicity tightened her brow and folded her lips into each other.  
“Macie, you are utterly wretched for insisting I do this.”  
“I promise to keep that walking brick wall away from you the whole night, just use his name to get in. I will get down on my knees in this fine frock and beg you if it’ll help.”  
“Fine, but you owe me.”

The two ran across the road, skirting in between slow moving cars and puddles to reach the entrance of the club. The gruff looking bouncer stared down at them, large arms folded across his broad chest.  
“Where are you skirts heading to?”  
“Inside,” Macie quipped back  
“Invitation only ladies.”  
“Your boss will make an exception,” Felicity spoke up, pouting her painted lips.  
“You’re good looking doll-face, he just might.”  
Felicity could taste the bile rising up in her mouth. Macie owed her big time.  
“Tell Mister Ray Palmer that Felicity is here to see him.”  
“You have a last name?”  
“You won’t need to use it.”

The bouncer walked back towards the door and passed the message onto a smaller man with a head of ruffled blond hair.

The same ruffled hair blondie came back a few moments later and nodded enthusiastically to the bouncer.

“Boss says you can go on in,” he smiled, at least towering 2 feet over the girls  
“Thank you Frank,” Macie waved as they followed the ruffled blondie inside.  
“How do you know his name is Frank?” Felicity asked.  
“I don’t, but there is a high chance, it’s Billy or Frank around these parts,” Macie winked before the stepped into the Jazz club that was lit up brighter than a Christmas tree of the 24th of December.

The music surrounded them, instantly deafening them to any other sounds of clinking glasses of conversations held in booths.  
“This way Miss,” the ruffled blond said with a distinctive twang that reminded Felicity of home.

Felicity followed him up the stairs, drinking in the opulent surroundings of the place, from the rich red carpet to the diamond encrusted chandelier – it was New York Wealth at its finest.

The sound from the live band grew a little quieter as they walked the balcony of the second storey and down a slightly dimmer lit corridor. At the very last door, at the end of the hall the young blond placed a rapt knock onto the carved oak door before opening it into an expansive and equally as decadent office.

“Felicity, I wasn’t expecting you to visit tonight,” Ray said, standing up from behind his heavy dark wood desk.  
“It’s my last Saturday night in the City and you spoke so highly of this place, we thought it worth a look,” Felicity replied cordially – she didn’t care much for the man, but she was nothing if not polite.

“Well, I’m glad you could come,” he smiled, taking her hand into his and placing a close-lipped kiss atop it.  
“Billy here will see to anything that you need this evening, on the house of course.”  
Felicity heard Macie giggle behind her – _of course the ruffled blonde’s name was Billy_.  
“That’s very kind, thank you Ray,” Felicity replied.  
“First though, I will give you a tour.”  
She tried not to roll her eyes – Macie owed her big time – nothing was worse than taking a tour with a man who enjoyed talking about money and himself.

“This is my office, all hand crafted wood panels and the desk is from Italy.”  
_Of course it was, because they couldn’t make desks in this country_  
“I have my own private bathroom just through that door,” he pointed towards a door on the left wall.

Felicity felt her head groaning – sure he would soon move on to telling them where the light fixtures were from.

**~*~*~*~*~**

“My God, that man is a bore,” Macie smiled, sipping on the root beer Billy had brought to the table for them moments earlier.  
“You thought I was exaggerating it some?” Felicity laughed as the two sat in a booth to the side of the stage, lapping up the lively atmosphere the Club offered.  
“No wonder you want out of this place, but I’ll miss you.”  
“I’ll miss you to Mace, you ought to come visit me in Starling, you’ll be bored out of your mind, but it’s beautiful.”  
“I reckon I’ll be coming out for your wedding in no time.”  
Felicity blinked down, nervously stirring her straw through her drink.  
“I don’t even know that Oliver is still there,” she blushed.  
“Well, I say he is, I say he’s been waiting for you to come back.”  
“We were kids Macie, and he never wrote me back.”  
Macie shrugged her slender shoulders, her dark grey dress catching the light from the candle on the table  
“Maybe he never got your letters or maybe he didn’t know what to say. He’ll take one look at you and he won’t ever look away.”

“Now, let’s dance, that dashing man in the grey has been given me the eye for the last ten minutes and I would not say no.”  
Felicity laughed, as she watched Macie tucking her short blond bob behind her ear.

“You go, dance, I’m going to use the powder room,” Felicity said.

The two friends parted ways as Macie walked straight up to the surprised wannabe gangster and Felicity sidled through the crowded Club to were Billy had earlier directed them. She stopped at the line of over twenty waiting women. She toyed with her choices:

She could go could back to the table and try again later … _not an option, the two sodas had deemed that impossible._  
She could wait… _for maybe two minutes._  
She danced on her beaded heels, one foot lightly to the other, as she considered a possible third option.  
_Dull Ray and his private bathroom._

She considered whether the risk of running into him was worth the chance to relieve herself before her bladder exploded.

During the moments of her contemplation the line hadn’t moved, making the decision for her.

Felicity followed the path they had taken earlier in the night – up the stairs, across the landing and down the hall to the last door. She took a heavy inhale and knocked.

No answer came so she twisted the knob in her hand and the door, surprisingly, opened into an empty office.

She exhaled, relief shadowing over her face as she softly closed the door behind her and made a beeline for the bathroom. Equally relieved to find that unoccupied, she decided Ray was at least good for one thing… his private powder room.

She was washing her hands with the _imported from Spain_ luxury soap when she heard the rumble of the office door and at least four different voices bouncing around the room.

“Malley is a two-bit thug, but he has some smarts about him, he’s been driving Canadian liquor over the border without been jacked yet. What do you reckon banks? He worth investing in?”

Felicity stood motionless in the room, anxiously deciding whether to attempt to leave or whether to stay put.  
“Most of his crew ended up in Sing Sing but the slippery son of a bitch only served nine,” another voice with a distinctly Italian accent added with a raucous laugh.  
“Banks?” a low, older voice now, but also carrying a thick Italian accent.  
“All your investments are tracking well Papa Johnny, he’d be easy enough to rub out if he was the exception,” the dull rumble of Ray Palmer’s voice was unmistakable

It was clear they were talking about bootlegging and in this town that was done only by the authority of whichever crime boss you took orders from. It seemed the incredulously boring Mister Palmer was embroiled in something altogether very New York… an Italian run gang. She lost her footing as she stumbled backwards, surprised at the concept.

She didn’t realise she had made enough noise for them to notice until the door flung open and she was pulled roughly from the confines of the bathroom, five agitated and aggrieved faces staring at her.

“Felicity?” Ray spoke through a puff from his cigar.  
“You know this broad Banks?” the low older voice from before asked.

Felicity’s eyes tracked the voice to a man in his 40s with neatly trimmed greying hair, broad shoulders and eyes that gave none of his thoughts away.  
“This is my gal, Felicity. Told you she was a looker.”  
Felicity wanted to refute his claim over her, but her gut told her now was not the time to be arguing possession, or in Ray’s case – lack thereof.

“I just came to use the bathroom, I can see myself out,” she spoke calm, heading towards the door.  
A wirily scrap of a man stepped in front if the door blocking her exit.  
“Papa Johnny, what do we do with this one?” he spoke with a stench emanating from his mouth

“You vouch for her Banks?”  
“She’s fine,” Ray ushered her on in a puff of smoke.  
Stealing another look at the one they called Papa, Felicity finally knew why his face had been so familiar. It had graced many a lead newspaper article, Johnny Torrio, one of the infamous crime bosses, founder of the Chicago Outfit, a shiver ran down her back at the realisation she was in a room with some especially bad people.

The gingivitis on legs moved to the side letting her passage out of the room. It wasn’t until she was halfway down the stairs that Felicity realised she had been holding her breath.

She found Macie and begged her to leave early, citing a sudden appearance of _Aunt Flo_. Felicity could tell Macie didn’t much buy it, but she was enough of a friend to not push it any further and they had left together moments later.

  
**~*~*~*~*~**

Felicity had not told a soul about what she had seen, forcing herself to not dwell on it – successfully so, until this very moment when Ray issued a thinly veiled threat.

“I can take everything you love and destroy it without a second thought. Everything you care about can be seen to, do not trifle with me Felicity it will be as easy as switching off a light. No one would miss him, not really. Test me again Felicity, I _promise_ you it will be my pleasure,” he licked the final word up her neck before he backed away.

He left her standing there, trying not to buckle under the weight of his words that ran cold through her veins and echoed through her head.

* * *

  
The next morning saw the sun streaming in the windows and a listless Felicity rubbing her eyes from a decidedly sleepless night.

She had toiled with telling Oliver about what Ray had said and about what she had seen, but there had been no opportunity, no stolen moment alone where she could tell him everything that was playing on her mind.

Felicity had managed to half convince herself that Ray was all puff and pomp, that despite what she saw in that room he would not hold enough clout to harm Oliver. Still there was a part of her that was settled on the complete opposite.

Either way, she needed to find him, to tell him. She knew what his reaction would be, but he had always offered her the truth and it was time she returned his trust. She wasn’t able to do this alone.

They had made arrangements to meet at the waterfall after breakfast, she would tell him then.

* * *

  
Breakfast rolls in hand Felicity walked through the stable doors and instinctively walked towards Mala’s stall, it was only when she was a few feet away she realised the stall was curiously empty.

A few more steps forward and something on the ground caught her eye. A sudden surge of fear took hold and her heart thumped a hole through her chest as she ran the final few feet before yanking open the stall door.

She screamed, a piercing echo ringing out through the still morning air as her eyes locked on the sight of her Mala slumped, dead, against the stall wall, the life drained completely from the beautiful white horse.

She got the message.


	18. House on the Hill

_**Don’t try to find the answer** _  
_**When there ain’t no question here** _  
_**Brother let your heart be wounded** _  
_**And give no mercy to your fear** _

_**~ Run to the Water** _

 

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do a damn thing. She was frozen in a nightmare she couldn’t escape from. Not a single mark marred Mala’s snow white coat, nothing on the surface to prove what Felicity knew to be true.

Mala had been a symbol of the love between her and Oliver, it was pure and strong and Ray had taken it, taken her, to prove a point. He had claimed Felicity, anything that represented a threat to that claim he would – as he promised, destroy it. Without recourse, without mercy, without regret.

“Felicity?” it was her mother’s concerned voice she heard first.  
She wanted to react, to pull her away, shield her mother from the sight that had stolen her breath, but she couldn’t move from her anchor point and when she heard the horrified shriek beside her she knew it was too late anyway.

“What happened?” she heard the voices speaking around her, a cacophony of questions and assumptions flying around the air circling her, but she took none of it in until she heard Ray’s voice.  
“That’s the problem with buying a mare without any pedigree or papers,” he callously spoke.  
Felicity heard much more between his words.  
_No one will miss this horse._  
_No one will notice if Oliver meets the same fate._  
_I will destroy what you love_

She could see the malice on his face, this was a game, a challenge, to him.  
Finally her feet released from the anchored point on the ground and she fled from the stable without looking behind, knowing there was only one place she needed to be.

* * *

  
Branches slapped at her face and scratched across her bare arms as she traversed the narrow and steep path. Her breath was hitched and uneven, her lips parched and her mind a maze of emotion. She knew the choice had been stolen from her, if she stayed in Starling she put everything she loved at risk.

Ray had chosen to send her the clearest of messages. She didn’t doubt that he would carry out the rest of his threat should she fight him on this.

It was an impossible decision – how do you leave something you love, but how do you stay and put that something at risk?

Felicity reached the clearing, her body giving way to the emotion and exhaustion. Oliver’s eyes fell onto her and instantly he felt a foreboding cast a dark shadow across the beautifully crisp blue sky.

“Felicity?” he called as he sprinted the gap between them to catch her as she crumbled in his arms.  
He placed the back of his hand against her forehead, her skin burning against his cooled flesh. She had no words, her eyes were sunken, her pupils blown and her breath staggered and laboured.

“Hey, did you run this whole way, you fool of a thing?” he breathed against her sweltering skin as he lifted her into the air.

She felt like a weightless ragdoll in his arms as he moved toward the small blanket he had laid on the ground earlier as he had waited for her, setting it out so it looked perfectly towards the waterfall they had enjoyed as children.

With careful hands he set her down gently onto the green woven blanket, her tousled hair spilling across the cushions he had so thoughtfully arranged around the blanket, to enjoy their own private oasis.

Felicity blinked her broken blue eyes up at him, the tears she had shed had marred scolded trails down her porcelain skin.  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice scratched and devoid of the sweet richness it usually gave freely.  
“Shhhh, rest,” he kissed her temple as he slowly moved his arm from under her, reaching for the water flask a few feet away.  
“You need to drink something,” he soothed, his eyes fixed on her as he lifted her head and brought the open flask to her lips.

His cheek smoothed against her head as she sipped down the cool water, savouring the refreshing effect it had on her parched throat.

Felicity felt the guilt like a stabbing pain to her heart as she watched him attentively care for her, his fingers idly combing through her hair as his kindly eyes watched over her.

She felt the tears hot down her cheeks, her whole body shook with the emotion the carried, she knew the words she needed to tell him and they would forever scar her heart.

Her fingers gripped his hand, easing it slowly away from her face as she sat up, twisting her body to face him.  
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, pressing tear soaked kisses into his palm, “Oliver, I’m sorry.”  
His brow furrowed as his free hand laced through the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her head to meet his, their foreheads pressed against each other

“I don’t rightly follow you, but whatever it is you can tell me,” he spoke quietly , peppering soft kisses atop her eyelids, her tears soaking into his lips.  
“You have you go, go to England, live happy, please Oliver you have to go,” she choked through her words, pushing her palms flat against his chest, desperate to push him away from her, away from the pain she felt came with loving her.

She was shaking now, her eyes darting around the clearing, the cascading water behind her echoing through her body. Her eyes squeezed closed as her heart pounded against her chest. This was all that they would have.

“What are you talking about?” he pleaded, refusing her the distance she sought as he pulled her closer.  
“You have to go, you have to. I have to go,” she panted through her words, her eyes etched with fear and her cheeks stained with tears, “I have to go to New York,” the realisation of her own words stung.

“Felicity, talk to me in full sentences,” he entreated, his own blue eyes marred with confusion.  
She tried to pull from his arms, but he pulled her closer.  
“No, no, don’t you do that, don’t you pull away from me Felicity, I see it in your eyes, don’t leave me out of this,” his voice shook, his fingers tightening around the strands of her hair, “you’re all I got, you’re all I need.”

“We can’t, we’re never going to have a happy ending,” each word she spoke was like a knife she wielded against his heart.  
“Felicity, what happened?” he asked, the hurt trailed through his words, and then as if realising it suddenly “where’s Mala, why did you run here?”

She shook her head in his hand as her eyes dropped down, her tears falling against her soft pink dress. Oliver scooped her head up, both hands now holding her tightly, his thumbs swiping away the tears that sprung from her eyes.

“Oliver, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, she’s gone,” Felicity spoke in stunted breaths, her lips quivering over each word she spoke as her eyes squeezed closed – she couldn’t watch the expression fall from his face.  
“I don’t understand, gone?” he voice was ragged now, pleading with her to offer more.  
Her eyes looked up at him, wet with pools of tears, her lips twitching over the truth hidden behind her lips. Her brows tugged inward – she had nothing but the truth to offer him.

“She’s dead, Ray took her from us,” she breathed through the words, stringing them through the soft quake in her voice, “I’m so sorry Oliver, this is my fault.”

He hadn’t meant anything by it, but the words from her mouth had shocked him – taking the breath from his lungs; and so he dropped his hands from her face, severing the only connection they had.

Felicity felt the cold air press against her hot skin in the void that his hands left on her face. She crumpled in half, her head falling onto her knees, every part of her body in agony.  
“I’m so sorry Oliver,” her voice was but a whimper.

“She’s dead? Ray…what? How? Why?” he couldn’t comprehend the words echoing through his ears as he stood from the blanket, pacing the grass underfoot.  
Felicity drew her head up to watch him, the pain clearly resonating from every step he took.

“He must have poisoned her during the night to send us a message, to send me a message, I’m so sorry Oliver,” she cried.  
She wanted to stand, to embrace him, to feel his body envelope hers and to offer him the same, but she was weakened and drained, her heart also scared he might reject the comfort she both offered and sought.

Oliver looked down for the first time since he had left her side, his eyes finally falling onto Felicity as she wept into her hands, her small frame racked with pain as she whispered how sorry she was.

His heart shattered at seeing her so broken. Felicity was built stronger than any woman he had ever met, her strength was not traditional or one that presented itself openly as brute force, but hers was a strength she wore inside, manifested in the thought she paid to others – even at the cost of herself, in the way she gave her love completely – free from strings, to those that she felt deserved it and in her resolve to fight for what she wanted even if she stood alone in the battle. The Felicity before him now was a shell of herself – her strength stolen from her.

“No, sssh,” he whispered, falling to his knees beside her, his arms wrapping tightly around her.  
“Felicity, this isn’t your fault, whatever happened you aren’t to blame, you hear me?” the words pushed into her temple, his grip strong around her – he would be her strength.

“But I brought this here Oliver,” she pressed her head into the crook on his neck, her lips desperate to touch his skin as she spoke, “I asked you to love me but I’m only bringing you pain.”  
“Felicity,” her name floated from his lips like a symphony, “Don’t you ever blame yourself, this ain’t on you. I love you.”

Gently he rocked her, his lips pressed to her cheek as his voice softly cooed against her wet skin.  
“I know that I have promised you whatever you asked me as best I could and I hope that you’ll forgive me for this one, but I ain’t sitting idly by anymore Felicity. You ain’t leaving with him and he’ll be lucky if he leaves this place walking.”

The anger was welling up his body now, like a volcano that had been sitting dormant at Felicity’s wish, but seeing how he had stolen so much from the woman he loved Oliver was unable to dampen down the anger anymore.

Felicity felt him rise from beside her, his hand sweeping back her hair that had fallen over her face.  
“I can’t stay idle anymore,” he kissed the words into the top of her head, sighing as he breathed her in.  
“Oliver, please you can’t, you can’t confront him,” Felicity rose to her feet, her hands clasping at his arm to pull him back, to keep him with her.

“The hell I can’t Felicity, you can’t ask me to watch as he destroys what you love and who you are, to hell with the Ranch, it ain’t worth it,” he didn’t mean his words to carry such a heated tone, but this had gone on too long and had taken too much.

“Oliver, please don’t,” she begged as she held his arm like her own lifeline.  
“I’m not scared of that a son of a bitch,” he pulled his arm from her grip.  
“Well you should be,” she replied, her lips folding into each other, the colour draining from her face leaving only the soft peach of her cheeks and the trails the tears had marred down her face.

“Please Oliver,” her voice shivered as she pleaded with him, her arms outstretched.  
“There’s more to this isn’t there?” he asked, reading the lines on her face.  
She nodded slowly.  
“Ray has associates in New York, a gang called the Chicago Outfit. Oliver, they’re bad people, people that wouldn’t blink an eye burning this place to the ground.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself tightly as she sniffed back the tears threatening to escape.

“I’ve become a challenge to Ray now. He took Mala from me, from us, because he knows what she meant to me. He will take everything else if I stay. That’s why you should go,” she unravelled a hand from around her waist and placed it against his cheek, a pained smile drawing over her face.

“I’m afraid that if I know you’re here, I always dream of coming back to you,” she whispered the words against his unshaven jaw, the soft bristles along his jawline pricking in against her soft lips.  
“Felicity I’m not letting you go,” Oliver replied, a drawn expression pulled across his heavy brow.

“I have no choice Oliver, I thought I could win this, but I can’t. He told me he would take what I loved and everything I love is here, I have to leave, can’t you see that?” the tears stung her flushed cheeks, her hand stroking down the side of his face.  
“No, there has to be a way,” his hands firmed against the small of her back, pulling her closer.  
  
“I wish that were so Oliver,” she spoke, trying to offer him a smile, but it faded quickly from her dry lips.  
“You tell me he’s affiliated with a gang and you expect that I would just let you leave?” the question of his words was written across the lines in his face, there was no way he was okay with what she was asking from him.  
“This isn’t your choice to make Oliver,” she replied, almost stoically.

It was not a statement she wanted to pull out and this wasn’t an argument she wanted to be having. She would have given anything to stay with him, but the reality was that choice carried a risk that she wasn’t prepared to take.

“To hell it isn’t. I said I wouldn’t leave you Felicity, that’s a promise I’m keeping, there’s another way,” Oliver replied, his hands tugging her body closer to him so not even air would breach between them.

“Oliver please, I don’t know what else to do, please,” her eyes starred up at him, pleading for this not to be the legacy they left.  
“Leave with me, tonight, we’ll just go and we’ll never look back,” he pressed the words to her forehead, peppering warm kisses to her skin, his lips quaking at the thought that he could lose her.

“We can’t Oliver, this is about winning to him. If I leave with you he’ll take it out on the people I leave behind, you can’t ask me to do that,” she cried each word, her body shaking in his arms.

“Then I’ll go to New York with you,” he spoke, his hand travelling up her back, the other stroking down her cheek.  
“No,” her head fell against his chest, “if he found out you were there.”  
“Felicity I don’t care what he does to me,” he replied, brushing back her hair and raising her face to look up at him, the blue of his eyes shining brilliantly in the rays of sunlight that pieced through the forest canopy above them.  
“But I do,” she blinked.

“My mind is made up,” she added, her eyes dropping downward, afraid to see the hurt in his eyes a moment longer.  
“No, you fight harder Felicity, you don’t give up,” he begged, his hand against her back moving to her shoulder, shaking her gently.  
But when she looked up at him again, he saw it on her face, she already had.

“Please don’t spend the time we have left together hating me,” she swallowed down the hitched tears in her throat.

Looking at Oliver in front of her, she knew the time would come too soon to say goodbye to him, goodbye to what they had, but for now she just wanted to feel his arms wrapped around her, his breath warmed against her skin. She just needed to feel his love. A memory of it to give her a sliver of hope that one day she might have it once again.

She looked behind at the serene waterfall, its beauty still as unmatched as she remembered it from all those years ago. She saw herself a child once again, foolishly upset that Oliver had told her she wasn’t much of a lady.

The silence hung heavy between them, neither okay with the situation as it lay before them, but neither having the words to change it.

“Felicity, you-“  
She stopped his words with her lips, soft but needy against his. Her bottom lip grazed against his as she began to speak.  
“Please don’t waste what little words we have left,” her words but a whisper against his lips.

“For just today can we pretend like we have forever ahead of us? Can you hold me in your arms like I’m yours and like nothing else matters,” she petitioned him, her words carrying through the exhaled sigh passing over her parted lips, “Please.”

“How can I hold you like that, knowing you intend to leave?” he questioned, although knowing there was no answer she could give.

“Please Oliver, don’t love me like I someone you could lose, love me like I someone that you found. Let me pretend a little longer that we get our happy ending,” her hands cupped his face, shaking against his bristled jaw.

She needed him and when his lips moved onto hers, sweeping her beautifully bowed top lip into his kiss, she knew that Oliver needed her too.

The goodbyes could wait for now.

Oliver’s lips shook as he pressed the kiss deeper, laying on the line just how much he needed her. Without words his lips begged her to stay, begged her to see that there would be another way.

“Oliver,” she whispered against his lips, her hands slowly trailing down his chest, feeling each muscle under the loose fabric of his cotton t-shirt.  
“Will you swim with me?” she asked, her voice softly breathing the words onto the seam of his mouth.

His hand combed through her hair, sweeping down around her ear and folding in behind her neck. He looked deep into her crystal eyes and he knew her decision to leave for New York was not in his hands, but the choice to hold her, love her, let her live in a memory of what they could have had – that was his to offer.

He watched her eyes as he felt her hands move slowly under the hem of his shirt, the touch of her cool skin spiking against the heat of his own, sending a ricochet of lightning up his spine.

Felicity hooked her thumbs around the hem of the shirt and slowly slid her hands up his warm body, her lips snagged between her teeth as she felt each rise and dip on his defined chest. He left her hands to travel up to his shoulders, her palms flat against him as she rose slightly onto her tiptoes. It was there he took the fabric from her hands and pulled it over his head, casting the shirt off onto the blanket beside them.

His fingers slowly walked up her spine, pressing in against her inch by inch until they reached the top of the zipper in the softly flowing dress. She left out a hushed sigh as she felt the first tug on the zipper. It was slow, painfully slow, as he ran the zipper down the track, his middle finger pressed into her skin and tracing over the same path less than an inch behind.

Oliver let her lips fall from his own as he started a path from the corner of her pouted lips, slowly moving across her dewy skin, collecting fallen tears and soothing the burning trails they had left.

His fingers feathered through the hair at the nape of her neck as his lips brushed over her earlobe, gently flicking his tongue around it, breathing cool air against the warm trail his kisses had left behind.  
“I love you Felicity,” he whispered, the words a reflection of the thoughts on his heart.

The zip dipped over the curve of her ass, stopping just below her tailbone. She felt the whip of the cool air sending a shiver up her spine before his warm palm rubbed gently up and down, soothing the bumps that had sprung up on her skin.

His lips bled into her neck, tasting her sweet skin with rich and sensuous kisses. She leant into him, blushing at the sensation as her fingertips danced tiny circles over the rise of his shoulder blades.  
“I love you too Oliver,” the air caught her words, lightly carrying them to his ear, where they became like a symphony.

His fingertips moved to the curve of her elbow, skating up her arms till they reached the delicate lace sleeves, gently he tugged the hem, freeing her shoulders from the dress. He held the fabric pressed to either arm as he dragged his lips across her collarbone and to the now-exposed round of her shoulder.

Felicity felt each slow drag his lip took, the lulling sense of it making her eyes lids flutter closed and her body sigh softly into the air. When his lips finally reached the precipice of the curve of her shoulder his tongue swept over it at the same time as he released the fabric of her dress, sending it floating to the ground around her feet.

Felicity gasped as the brisk air assaulted her flushed naked skin. Oliver hugged her close, pushing his warmth in on her, skin to skin. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her breath caught in her throat as his warmth slowly passed through her.  
“No bra,” he commented softly in her ear as his hands ran tracks up and down her back.

She smiled against his chest pressing her lips against the silken skin of his chest as she nodded her head, tumbled hair falling over his hands. She moved blindly to unfasten the fly of his pants, not wasting any time dropping them down to his ankles where he stepped from them and kicked them toward the blanket.

Oliver dipped his body down, his hands running down her to her thighs, his gentle touch making her shiver against his body. His fingers gripped into her smooth creamy skin as he lifted her effortlessly into the air.  
“Hold on,” he smiled as he raised her up, peppering her neck with kisses as she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved her arms to rest atop his shoulders, her fingers laced through the short strands of hair at the back of his head.

He stepped slowly, holding her tight against his body as he walked through the grass undergrowth towards the slow sloping embankment of the pooled river.

Felicity felt his body go rigid as he stepped into the water, she squeaked lifting her toes up higher as she buried her face into the crook of his neck at the expectation of the chilled water.

It was the moment the first lap of water touched her heel that she forgot everything else. It was then Felicity and Oliver allowed themselves a moment without conditions, without thinking about goodbyes or the distance they would soon find themselves parted by. This moment was about them, about now.

She shivered as Oliver carried her deeper into the water, a refreshingly chilled sensation engulfing her. When the water lapped against her shoulders she unraveled her legs from his waist and floated them down to the pebbled riverbed.

A charmed smile grew across her lips, her head cocking to the side as she pulled away, just her fingertips touching his shoulders.  
“Where are you going?” he asked with a smile, his hands touching blindly against her waist under the water.  
“You told me I wasn’t much of a lady over here Oliver,” she raised a brow, her lips pushing into a pout as she took his hands and walked a few feet backwards, towards the cascading waterfall.

He tipped his head to his shoulder, his eyes watching her brimming smile.  
“So why not show me I am in the same spot.”

She stepped back until the cast off from the waterfall peppered her back with water drops. She stopped, tugging him close. He moved through the water without resistance, scooping her into his arms once more. She rubbed the flimsy fabric of her panties against the ridges of his chest, eagerly seeking out a moment of friction against her eager heat.

He hoisted her body up, curving his pelvis into her as her body rose out of the water, her budded nipples like diamonds against his chest. Her elbow fell into the crook of his neck as their lips hurriedly met each other, a mash of panted breaths and needy lips moving fluidly over each other.

Felicity gently bit into his lip, pulling her head back to let his bottom lip slowly stretch out before it slipped from her grip. Oliver growled softly, snipping back her mouth onto his, his hands kneading into her ass, relishing the way she was arching her back to ride the muscles of his chest.

“I don’t want you to be gentle, I want to know passion,” she asked openly, just a peek of insecurity in her tone.  
He moved fast through the water, pushing her through the lightly rippled water, causing greater ripples in his wake until her back was a few inches from the smooth rock face, the waterfall now spilling next to them.

Oliver’s hand moved between her thighs, moving the thin fabric of her panties to the side as he pressed heavily between her folds, delighting in the way his action caused her back to arch and her teeth to bite down on her lip.  
“Kiss me,” he instructed, circling her entrance with his finger, his thumb lightly flicking against her budding nub.

Felicity instantly lavished his lips with her own, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, scouting her tongue into the warmth of his mouth where it traced lines over his tongue, the sound of the falling water beside them spurring her on.

Oliver pushed a finger into her, simultaneously rubbing his thumb over her clit. He caught her gasp in his mouth, taking a moment to enjoy the way her breath was hot and ragged against his.

He pulled his finger slowly out, skating it around her walls eliciting more gasps he eagerly caught, each one sending a rushing pulse to his hardening member. He moved his finger back inside her, stretching her tight walls.  
“Good God Oliver,” she sighed, dropping her head to his shoulder as he eased two fingers inside her.

She retaliated with hurried kisses into his neck and along his shoulder and when he pressed in against her raging nub she couldn’t stop herself from biting her enjoyment into his skin. He swept her body backwards, exposing her breasts to him. His tongue scouted across his lips eagerly before his mouth enveloped her tightly budded nipple. His tongue toyed with it as his teeth nibbled at her sensitive pink areola.

Felicity mewled at the attention, both the sensation of his teeth tasting her breast and his fingers dipping deep inside her pulling the breath from her lungs and the low fluttering from her core. She needed him to fill her, she needed to feel him sinking into her.

Her breasts ached at the attention he lavished on them as his mouth sucked her in, swapping between breasts eagerly taking one in after the other as his fingers danced against her inner walls.

Felicity dropped her hand into the water, stretching it as far as it would go, bending herself back as she walked it between her legs, finally gripping the head of his hard cock. With a steady hand she pumped his shaft rolling her thumb over the head of and pushing in at the very tip, rolling circles around it.

“Felicity,” he moaned her name against her breast.  
She lifted her head to meet his eyes.  
“I need to be inside you, I don’t have-“  
Felicity shifted her weight pushing her heat against his cock, running the shaft between her folders.  
“Let’s pretend it’s just us that matter,” she whispered, holding his member at her primed entrance.

Oliver eased into her, still aware her body needed time to adjust to him. He watched the breath escape over her perfectly blushed lips, he held himself halfway in, relishing the slight sway of her hips as she settled each inch inside her. She ran a heel up his leg, wordlessly coaching him deeper.

“Shit,” she swore at the encompassing fullness that swept over her, her nails digging into his back.  
He watched her head roll, exposing her slender neck he couldn’t stop himself from petting heavy kisses against it as he smoothed his way in and out of her.

She rode the feeling of him filling and emptying her, her heels eagerly begging him to speed up, she wanted to feel complete and sudden release and the caressing feeling of his lips on her neck, his hard chest against her sensitive nipples, the lapping current of the water against her burning clit and the insatiable slipping of his cock against her fluttering walls was a cacophony of pleasure she lapped up without restraint.

She cried out, vividly enjoying the way her voice echoed through the nature surrounding them. He felt the moment she came and he heaved a sigh of pleasure at the way she left herself go, trusting him to hold her up in the water.

The cupping of her body against the ridge of his cock milked him on each pass over it, her clenching pulling an orgasm from the pit of his stomach.

He called her name out, completely unabashed at the suddenness with which he spilled into her, still pumping back and forth, letting the cool water against his fiery skin send sparks up his body.

“I love you,” he muttered, stumbling each word through his release.  
“I’ll always love you,” she smiled, thumbing the necklace the base of his neck. 

* * *

 

“Tell me what it would be like,” she smiled, her back pressed against his chest as his lips kissed into her neck.  
“What, what would be like?” he asked, his breath dripped down her collarbone.  
“What our future would be like,” she smiled into the distance, wrapping a finger through the strands of his hair, “if we had a chance to live it.”

She dropped her head back onto his shoulder, treading the water gently as he held her naked body firm against his.

“We’d live in a little house built on the top of a hill so we could sit together and watch the sun’s last light each night,” he smiled, his lips forming small circles over the beads of water glistening on her neck.  
“With the crisp evening breeze in summer and a big warm blanket in the winter,” she sighed, the scene so clear in her mind.  
“On one of those fancy swinging seats, your head on my shoulder,” he replied, his cheek running a bristled path over her damp hair.  
“And you built this house?”  
“Aye, you kept changing your mind, but it’s perfect now,” he chuckled into her temple.  
She playfully scowled up at him before her lips folded into a smile.  
“Where did we live while you were building this perfect house on the hill?” she asked, already sure she knew the answer.  
“The barn,” they said in unison.

“I knew you’d say that,” she laughed, the water lapping against her breasts as she twisted her head to catch his gaze.  
“It’s alright, I’ll make it fit for a lady such like yourself, fix up the broken boards, build you a nice outhouse and you can bathe with me in the tub.”  
She hummed her approval as she shifted instinctively, pushing the curve of her ass into his lower abdomen, raising a growl of pleasure to emit from his lips.

“We’ll need a bigger bed, I’m not sleeping the nights on hay bales,” she smiled, turning in his arms to face him.  
“Not too big, the smaller the bed the closer I get to hold you,” he keened into her forehead, lips pressing into a kiss.

Her breasts skimmed against his chest, bobbing lightly in the ripples of water around them.  
“Do we have children?” she asked, feathering her fingers through his wet hair.  
“Only two right now, but we’re having fun practicing for a third,” he replied, smiling gingerly.  
“Tell me about them,” she said, her legs floating up around his waist, her back curving in towards him.

“Robert, he’s five and likes us to call him Robbie, he looks just like you, a beautiful mop of blond hair you won’t let me cut short just yet.”  
Felicity smiled at the way his eyes whimsically danced around describing a child he imagined them having

“And the other, a little girl?” she asked, idly kissing his neck, her thighs playfully rubbing against the dip of his waist.  
“The prettiest little three year old around.”  
“Adeline, and she has your beautifully serious blue eyes,” Felicity added.  
“And your stubborn nature, so I ain’t ever able to say no to her,” Oliver sighed, with an soft head shake.

“And Robbie, he rides with you?” she asked sweeping a kiss from his jaw to the corner of his mouth, her tongue licking against his bottom lip.  
“Any time he ain’t at school, being brilliant like you,” he kissed her back, relishing the dewy softness of her lips.

“Oliver, are we happy in our little house on the hill?” she asked softly, her eyes pleading for him to simply tell her what she needed to hear, truth or otherwise.  
“Absolutely, we’re the best kind of happy,” he replied, peppering sad kisses against her cheek

Felicity closed her eyes, savouring the feeling and holding tight to the picture he had painted of the house on the hill…. _Their forever._

 


	19. Wait For You

**10 May 1924**

Felicity sat alone atop the hill where the wild blackberries grew along the ridgeline watching the day’s final light dip low into the horizon. She needed the time alone to process her thoughts and gather the steeled will she knew would be required of her.

The last two days since Mala’s death; Ray’s veiled threat; had gone by in a fog, she had gone to Ray and admitted, bitterly, that she would return on the next train out – which would leave tomorrow morning.

She didn’t have a plan, merely a scrap of one, but it was the best she could hope for, for now. It would mean turning her back on this place that held treasured memories and hoped for dreams, but she was left with little other choice.

Perhaps there were other paths she could take, but they were clouded and held no real promise that she wouldn’t end up in the same spot she was now – preparing to leave for New York tomorrow morning.

It was too soon, she knew, but she also knew each minute she allowed Ray to be around the people she loved that a risk hung over them. She also knew if she spent more moments with Oliver she might never be able to let him go like she needed to – at least for now.

He had told her as he held her in the river that he wouldn’t travel to England as she had requested as the distance was for too great. He had kept his word to not rain down his anger on Ray – a weight that Felicity could tell was a heavy burden on his soul.

His hatred for the man was etched in every line on his face and burnt into the blue of his eyes. She knew it took him every ounce of restraint he possessed not to, but he had silenced his fists – only for her.

Felicity knew that starting a fight with Oliver was part of Ray’s plans. He wanted Oliver to attack him, she was unsure what the end result of that would be, but Ray did not take risks he was not well prepared for, and when Oliver failed to play into it, Felicity saw the annoyance on Ray’s face.

There was no way of either Oliver or Felicity knowing at that time, but Ray had wanted Oliver to attack him over Mala’s death. The wheels had already been put in motion with a wet-backed Deputy Sheriff that meant he would share a lockup with a particularly nasty fellow who, together with the shiv under his cot mattress, were to make sure Oliver did not return.

Noah had brought in a vet from town who had said that Mala had died of a heart attack. He had gone on to say it was unusual given her age and her relative health, but not unheard. Everyone had seemed to accept this and Felicity had let them. It would serve no benefit for her to appear like a crazed woman, she needed her sense around her, her focus and willpower.

Selfishly and stubbornly screaming murder would have no lasting, or even temporary, benefit. If she cracked, Ray would win, he would think her broken; and even if she almost was she had firmly resolved to never let him see that.

The wind swept up, brushing cool air against her flushed face as she tugged her legs in closer to her chest. She would allow herself a few moments more to close her eyes and dream that the world was different. Laying her head atop her bent knees she let herself cry, soft tears that drew crooked paths down her blushed skin and stuck the brisk wind to her face.

She let herself cry for the ones she was leaving behind, her Father, who she knew would blame himself. Her mother, who would never really understand it. John and Tommy, who had proved themselves friends when she thought she had none – and Oliver, her beautiful moment, her strong arms, her warm place to fall – she had been given precious little time with him, but she would cherish each moment all the same.

Her head lifted, her eyes softly closed as the tears speckled her skin. She listened for the distant sounds, desperate to hold onto them for as long as she could. It was only for a moment, but she swore she heard the sweet sound of a child laughing in the distance.

Perhaps it was her mind – allowing her one last memory of the life that should have been up on this very hill.

She had done her best – fought for as long and as hard as she could, gone through every scenario she could, but they all led to the eventual goodbye.

* * *

  
The sun had vanished almost completely, replaced by the heavy light of a full moon as Felicity walked her way back to the house. Her path would take her along the shoreline of the lake where she padded with bare feet, her sandals draped over her wrist. The water was still and cool underfoot, her movements stirring up only small ripples.

The night grew thicker as she followed the path her heart took, until she was standing outside the barn for what would be their final goodbye.

Felicity took a few small steps forward towards the cracked open door and steadied her shaking hand to knock. Before her fist met with the slatted wooden door, it opened to Oliver’s half-smiling face. They were both trying to put on a pretence that this wasn’t as painful as they both knew it was.

Silently Felicity embraced him, warming her cheeks against his heated chest. She held back the tears, there was a lot to say in the few moments they had graced to them tonight, she wouldn’t waste those with tears just yet.

“I’m glad you could come, I’ve been thinking about a few things,” Oliver breathed the words into her ear, kissing a lingered touch against her temple before he opened the door wider and coached her inside.

Felicity was met with the gaze of two other sets of eyes, those belonging to Tommy and John Diggle. Her brow pulled inward, her heart skipped and her breathe caught in the back of her throat.

“Oliver, you told them?” she whispered, looking back at him with a pang of distress trapped in her eyes.  
“Felicity, I needed to, we need their help,” Oliver replied, smoothing his palm down her arm, “I ain’t just going to let you leave,” he leaned in, pushing the words he spoke through a gentle exhale.

“There is nothing to be done on the matter Oliver, I have nothing left to fight with,” she felt the tears brimming in the corner of her eyes as the lanterns around the barn gently swayed their light.  
“That’s why I’m taking over this fight, and I need you to trust me on this,” Oliver pleaded, both palms holding her shoulders tightly, his eyes begging for her to accept his offer.

“I’ll always trust you Oliver, you’ve never given me mind not to,” she offered a small smile, a slight crinkle in her nose – it was the truth, she would always trust Oliver, he was the constant truth in a world that had so many lies.  
“So I’m asking you to trust me on this, we need Tommy and John’s help.”

Felicity glanced across at the two men who had stayed quiet, tentatively watching them. She looked back at Oliver, her blue eyes sending secret messages to his – she trusted him completely, now and forever.

She nodded softly, outwardly accepting whatever would come next.  
“So, I know I can’t stop you from leaving tomorrow,” Oliver started, his words met with a soft shake of Felicity’s head.

She was unmovable in that decision – Ray needed to be taken far away from Starling, and if that meant her accompanying him to New York, then so be it. On this, she would not be moved.

“And you said I can’t go with you,” Oliver continued, walking Felicity closer to where Tommy and John sat  
“No, it’s too dangerous Oliver,” Felicity replied, both Tommy and John nodded their heads as Oliver guided her to sit on one of the hay bales that was placed in a circle around a soft glowing barrelled-fire.

“So, John will go with you, he’ll keep you safe out there,” Oliver spoke, sitting on the bale beside her, his hand clasped in hers.  
“Ray won’t allow it,” she breathed, her pained lips folding over his name like it was poison.  
“It’s already done Miss Felicity, I spoke with your father and without much of a word he insisted on it, told his folks that you wouldn’t be leaving unless I went with you, put his foot right down. I think he knows something ain’t right.”

Felicity blinked downward, she still wasn’t sure that keeping everything from her parents was the right choice, but she knew that telling them would be something that she couldn’t take back if it wasn’t the right choice either. There was no realistic scenario that didn’t carry a multitude of consequences – so, rightly or wrongly, she chose to keep them out of the loop, fearing that their knowing could cost them their lives.

“I don’t understand how this will help though?” she finally spoke, her eyes locked on the sight of Oliver’s thumb rubbing gently across the back of her hand.

“John will do some digging, that son of a bitch Ray will have some skeletons in his closet I don’t doubt it, and if we can find one, we can sink him with it, either within the Outfit or with the Feds,” Oliver explained, his thumb still stroking her skin.  
“And if there isn’t?” Felicity asked.  
“Then we make one,” John replied, his arms folded across his chest.

“You plan to frame him up for something?” Felicity question, her lips pursed in surprised, her eyes darting up to meet Oliver’s.  
“That bastard has his secrets, I don’t think we’ll need to frame him for anything, but if that’s what it takes.”  
“Oliver this is a dangerous game to be risking.”  
“If it stops him then it will be worth the risk.”  
“And what about you John, why would you take such a risk?” Felicity asked, her eyes tracking to where John sat.  
“When I first came to Starling, to Verdant, I came with a past that weren’t a good one Miss. I’ve seen my share of skeletons and I’ve lived with a lot of poor choices. But your father gave me a chance, he took gamble on me and gave me something I could be proud of and Oliver here has vouched for me ever since,” John nodded towards Oliver who tipped his hat slightly in response.

“I’ve seen a lot in my life Miss Felicity, but I don’t reckon I’ve seen two people better deserving of a happy ending than you two, if I can help with that, then I reckon that’s the best a person can do for another,” he continued.

“Ray’s life is built on a house of cards, we just need to find the right one to pull on to make it collapse,” Tommy offered up, his hands rolling over the fire that licked up the sides of the barrel.

“Tommy knows a few people across the nearby states, he’ll see what he can find from here. We’ll find something Felicity, something we can use against him,” Oliver reassured her, his other hand gently smoothing across her knee.

“I’ll keep my ear low to the ground, there are already whispers about the bootlegging across the Canadian border. We’ll find something,” Tommy smiled with a soft nod of his head.

“You won’t be out there for long, you’ll come back to me soon,” he smiled, moving his hand up to fold around the back of her neck, his fingers lacing through her tumbled hair.

“And I’m heading out to California within the day. I spoke with that Mister Rankin, he’s heading across state to see his son and he offered me the chance to go with him. If I can get enough backing I reckon I could convince your Pap to raise and train horses instead. With the Rankins’ investment your father could pay the loan over the Ranch back before Christmas.”

“Ray wouldn’t have a threat left to stand on,” Tommy agreed.  
“And you’re offering to help too?” Felicity asked kindly.  
“Oliver’s my best friend and the dumb lug is head over heels in love with you, and it ain’t hard to see why. Whatever I can offer to help, seems like the right thing to be doing.”

“I’m not sure I know what to say,” Felicity whispered, her eyes bouncing between the three men.  
“You don’t need to say a word, just let us fix this so you can come back to me,” Oliver kissed the kissed into her forehead, his hand drawing lazy lines down her neck.

“Let me fight for you and I’ll fight till I have no more breath left in me,” his hand gripped her neck, pulling her close as his forehead fell against hers, his eyes heavy and lidded.  
“Okay,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as her head softly nodded, still pushed against his forehead.

“Thank you,” she sighed, looking first at John then across to Tommy.  
“You’re more than welcome,” Tommy replied as both men stood.  
“We’ll leave you guys alone to say your farewells,” John spoke, patting a kindly hand onto Oliver’s shoulder.

Felicity stood a moment later and fell into John’s strong arms, hugging him as tight as her small frame could. She felt his body relax around her, his arms squeezing her tight.  
“It’ll be alright,” he soothed, the deep tone of his voice like a rumble through his chest and into Felicity’s ear.  
She blinked up at him, a tear stained smile cross over her lips as he head softly bobbed.

John dropped his arms from around her before she took a step towards Tommy.  
“You’re the best kind of person there is Tommy Merlyn and there is a special place for you in this world,” she smiled as she pulled him close, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

“Please watch out for Oliver, whatever happens,” she whispered into his ear, the words meant for him alone.  
Tommy lay a gentle hand on the back of her head, smoothing down her crown.  
“Always have, always will,” he whispered back.

Felicity walked the few steps back to Oliver, taking his hand into hers and lacing her fingers into his. The two watched as Tommy and John left the barn and as the door closed behind them the silence between them was deafening.

“How am I supposed to let you leave?” Oliver finally spoke, a finger tracking through the wet trail a tear had left down her cheek.

Felicity touched the scruff of his cheek, relishing the warmth of his skin against the palm of her hand.  
“Oliver, if this plan doesn’t work, I need to ask you to promise me something,” she said, her lashes gently blinking away the tears that were forming at the crease of her eyes.  
“It will Felicity, we’ll make it work,” Oliver soothed, his fingers caressing the base of her neck.  
“But if it doesn’t, please Oliver, promise me something,” her hands laced into his.  
“You know you can ask anything of me,” he breathed.  
“I need you to look after this place, to care for my parents,” she spoke, her voice timid and pleading.

Her body shook as her chin dropped and a river of tears flowed from her eyes.  
“Hey, it’ll be alright Felicity, you Ma will write you every day, you know she will; and she’ll go out and visit you,” Oliver smiled, cupping her face in his palms and littering the top of her head with the tiniest of kisses.

“I need to burn the bridge back home Oliver,” she whispered, her head rolling into his palm as just her eyes looked up at him.  
“I don’t rightly understand,” he spoke as his brows pulled inwards.  
“If there are no skeletons to be found, I need to make Ray believe this place means nothing to me. If I can convince him that I blame them, that I hate them then he will think that to threaten them means nothing, but to do that I need to hurt them, Oliver. I need to cut them out of my life. I can’t write them or see them again.”  
“Felicity, that means turning your back on everything you love, everything you sacrificed for?”  
“I know Oliver and I’m not sure how I will live with that, but if doing it keeps them safe then it will be worth it, it has to be.”

“And what would you ask of me?” his lips tensed at the seams, afraid of her request.  
“I will hurt them in ways that no child ever should. My father will carry the burden of guilt and I will break my mother’s heart. I need you to promise me that you will take care of them, that you won’t blame them for this and that you will love them as a son. Please promise me you will watch over them,” she sobbed into his chest, every word begging to him.

Oliver wanted to reject the thought, tell her that his way would work, that her steps would be unnecessary, but he would be lying if he didn’t understand what she was doing. To make Ray believe that she didn’t care about them – any of them, including him – she took that card out of his hand.

Oliver could see it – because he would do exactly the same if the circumstances dictated it. Better the people you love think you a villain but stay safe than be used as pawns in a chess game you don’t control.

He watched the blue of her eyes glass over, the tears reflecting the flickering fire light beside them. She needed him to promise the same thing he would ask of her.

“Aye, I’ll watch over them,” he ran his hands down the side of her head, stroking down her hair, “until we bury that son of a bitch Ray and you can come home.”

He saw just a flicker of a smile pass across her blushed lips before her eyes sunk downward again.

“But, if we can’t, when enough time has passed, a year or maybe two,” she spoke, her eyes glistening when tears as her voice cracked under the weight of her words, “when he believes that I am broken and that I have no affection left for the people I left behind, for them,” she breathed.

“For you,” she continued, her fingers touching against his chest, “I will run away. I’ll walk out of whatever pretend life I’ve built, hop a train or make him believe I threw myself in the Hudson River.”

Oliver’s brow pulled inward at the finality with which she spoke as he watched her lips quiver over her words.  
“And then you’ll find me. I’ll be waiting for you on the Santa Monica pier, in a little yellow dress with your pin in my hair and your ring on my hand, say you’ll come for me there Oliver, that we’ll have a future?”  
“You don’t need to think like that, you won’t spend that long with him.”

“But if I do, tell me that you’ll meet me there Oliver.”  
“I’ll meet you anywhere. If it’s the pier you want, then I’ll be there with a bunch of your favourite flowers and two tickets to wherever you want to go.”

“It isn’t fair of me to ask this of you Oliver, but will you keep yourself for me and not love another?” she whispered, her fingers lightly tracing the ridges of his chest on top of his shirt.

“I’ll never want for another woman’s touch for as long as I live and these hands,” he gently pushed in against her cupped face, his thumb swiping away a tear, “they will only ever belong to you.”

Her lips drew up, formed into a softly parted smile.  
“My lips,” he leant in, taking her lips onto his own, drinking in the fallen tears he found there, “they will only ever kiss you.”

“I gave you my heart and I don’t plan on ever asking for it back. I rightly know that I’m not complete without you.”  
His lips brushed across hers once more, slowly and controlled as their emotions passed through a single kiss, warm and soft – like the safest place that you would call home.

“I can’t see you off tomorrow,” he breathed, each syllable danced across her lips as he forehead lay against hers.  
“I know,” she replied, her words caught in a sigh.  
“I’m afraid of watching you leave,” his arms dropped her waist, one hand nestled in the small of her back.  
“I’m afraid of not being able to leave.”  
“You come back to me, I need you to come back to me,” he pleaded, swallowing down the forming lump in his throat.

She nodded softly, moving both of their heads as they stayed with their foreheads pressed together.  
“You come find me Oliver, when this fight it over, you come find me. I’ll be waiting for you.”

They kissed again, their lips trembling at the distance they would soon face. Oliver’s hand pulled her closer, pressing her body firm against his, her back arching gently to curve up his chest as her nails dug into his back, afraid to let him go.

Oliver ran the other shaking hand through her locks, memorising the way her hair felt like silk between his calloused hands.

No more words needed to be said, the words caught up in their lips – He would always find her and she would always wait for him. 

* * *

 

The night was heavy in the air as Felicity walked through the front door of the estate house. The cool air from her slow walk back had dried the tears, leaving only marred red trails down her cheeks.

The house was eerily quiet, the guests having retired to the other house and Ray was likely upstairs packing the last of his belongings.

Felicity found her father alone at his desk, trawling through papers, a furrowed brow prominent on his face. She stood in the doorway for just a moment, watching him and appreciating the weathered hands that hand done so much for her over the years.

She walked in silently and sat at the stool by the piano, lifting the lid slowly she glanced back towards her father and caught his gaze.  
“Will you play with me, like we once did?” she asked softly, her eyes quietly pleading to him.

He stood from the carved wooden chair and ran a weathered hand through his flash of grey hair.  
“You’ve always outshone me,” he smiled as he took a seat on the stool beside her.

The soft notes of Clair de Lune by Debussy breezed through the room, Felicity’s fingers moving weightlessly across the ivory keys, bringing memories of times long ago where a daughter sat next to a father and imagined he could do anything.

“You’re crying,” Noah said softly as his hand slowly moved between the black keys to accompany her.  
“I’m afraid,” she whispered, her eyes stayed trained on the piano as a tear dropped onto the smooth white key.  
“Of what?”  
“Of not being able to tell you what I know you need to hear.”  
“You can tell me anything Felicity.”  
“I know about Laurel,” she breathed, her simple words carrying a hefty weight.

Noah’s fingers stopped on the keys the loud force of the sound bouncing off the walls.  
“I don’t know-“  
“Daddy,” Felicity whispered, looking up at her father as she took the keys off the piano, “please don’t spend another moment weaving more lies, I know Henry is your son. I wanted to hate you for that, but I know in my heart I can’t. Life is too short for living it under a cloud of hate, or one of lies.”

Noah eyes dropped, his brow sporting the shame of the truth.  
“I don’t know what Mam will say about it, but I know you owe her the truth.”  
“Will you tell her?”  
“It’s not for me to tell her that,” Felicity lay a hand atop her father’s.  
“Will I lose her?”  
“I don’t know, but if you keep on hiding this from her, then she’s already lost to you.”  
“And you, are you lost to me?”

Felicity searched her father’s eyes, hidden under thick brows and years of memories and regrets drawn in the lines of his face.  
“I’ll always be proud to be your daughter,” she leaned in a placed a gentle kiss against his temple.

“And will New York make you happy? Will Ray make you happy?”  
Felicity inhaled, she wasn’t expecting the question and she had no answer to offer him.  
“Play with me a little longer,” she begged, starting the melody once more.  
“You don’t have to leave with him tomorrow,” Noah replied, his fingers finding their way back to the black keys.

“Say the word and I’ll stop this all.”  
“I know.”

Felicity folded her lips closed, as much as she wanted to hide behind him a little longer or tell him everything that was on her mind, she was terrified that such a truth would bring the worst of consequences to him, to them.

So she kept her lips closed, sealing in the truth, to ensure that her parents would stay safe.

* * *

  
Felicity found her mother at her vanity, gently running an ivory-handled brush through her long blond hair, her small framed swamped in a white night gown made of fine satin that reflected the light from the lamp beside her.

“I heard you playing downstairs, you always did play beautifully,” Donna smiled as she watched Felicity sink into the large bed in her parents’ room.  
“I use to love to watch you play, you always looked so elegant,” Felicity replied, idly stroking own arms.

“Felicity, why did you say yes?” Donna asked, laying the brush on the polished wooden dresser.  
Felicity looked up, her eyes stained with spilt tears.  
“Do you love Ray?” she continued, walking towards the bed.  
“Please, don’t ask me that.”  
“I don’t understand.”  
“I have nothing to offer you by way of reasons you would understand, I came to say goodbye in case the morning doesn’t allow for it,” Felicity did her best to hold back the tears, her hands rolling over each other anxiously.

“Felicity, you have the look of a person heading for a gallows, and I can’t understand why, what’s wrong?”  
“Please, ask me another time. Please not tonight.”

Donna sat down beside her, cradling Felicity’s head to her chest.  
“I made many mistakes in my life and with you Felicity, but I will never forgive myself if they mean that I lose you.”

Felicity pulled back from the hug and offered her mother a smile – pulled from deep down inside to mask the pain she was enduring.

“Even the best people are capable of stumbling in life, we make a decision whether or not we stand by them regardless. Life isn’t about the clothes you wear or the house you live in, it’s about the people you chose to let in, the people you chose to love. Just remember that,” Felicity offered.

There were words Felicity didn’t know how to say caught up in the back of her throat. She knew that there was nothing lasting she could offer her that would make what Felicity would come to do any less of a burden on her mother’s heart, but regardless she took a breath and held her mother close in an embrace.

“Whatever happens, I forgive you for the past and I will love you forever,” she spoke softly, memorising the smell of her mother’s lightly scented hair.

* * *

 

The morning came too soon and it was with a heavy heart that Felicity watched much of her life, now bundled into trunks, be loaded into cars. As the mid morning sun cast yellow rays across the sky she had hoped for a moment that Oliver would be there to embrace her one last time.

But she knew that moment would be too torturous for them both. Instead her final memory would be of his lips pressed against hers, his breath warm and his lips trembling. That would be how she would remember him, from now till always.

A soft smile grew on her lips as she saw Tommy approach. He met her smile with one of his own as he brought her in for a lingered farewell embrace.  
“Oliver asked me to come, said I needed to see you off right,” Tommy spoke the words into her ear, her blonde hair spilling like a curtain around him.  
“You come back to him Felicity, he needs you.”  
“I’ll always find my way back” she replied, placing a soft kiss just above his ear “take care of him, don’t let him linger alone.”

Tommy nodded as they broke apart. Felicity took a small note from the pocket of her fine woven coat and folded it into Tommy’s hand.  
“When I’m gone, please see that he gets this.”

The last trunk was loaded and Ray’s steeled gaze fell against Felicity.

It was time to leave.  
Time to wear her mask.

She walked towards the black town car and as the door was opened to her she heard her mother calling her name.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she slipped into the back seat of the car and gestured for the door to be shut.

“One hug before you leave?” Donna asked through the open window.  
_I’m so sorry_  
“We can leave now,” Felicity spoke stoically, as her eyes stayed locked forward, refusing her mother’s request.

She felt Ray’s eyes on her as the car pulled away.  
“That was unusually harsh,” he finally said, his lips twisting up into a smile.  
“I blame them, they deserve no mercy,” she replied bitterly.

She looked back for just a moment, catching the same view she had as a child. It had taken her over seven years to find her way back, she prayed that fate would not let that happen again.

* * *

  
Oliver watched the cars rolling along the dusty road, the cloud of dust like a settling explosion in the distant.

Hot tears ran down his face, purging the pain he couldn’t keep in any longer.

“Wait for me, I’ll come find you,” he whispered into the rolling breeze, “I’ll always find you.”

  
It was later that night that Oliver found himself sitting alone on his cot holding the sealed envelope Tommy had given him, with a vice grip, the envelope marred with a few fallen tears.

He was afraid to read it, but he peeled back the envelope and read it all the same.

_My dearest Oliver,_

_I love you._

_I know that we weren’t granted much time together, but even a moment in your arms was worth waiting seven years for._

_I won’t pretend that I knew what love was as a child, but I have known your smile most of my life and I have always known that you would forever be a part of my life._

_Oliver, I am blessed to say I know what love is now, love is sitting amongst the tall grass reading to you, love is laying my head on your back and listening to each breath you take, love is the way my hand fits in yours, love is knowing I’m safe in your arms and love is giving my heart to you knowing you will treat it as no other. You have shown me love Oliver and I love you for that._

_I do not know when we will find ourselves in each others arms once more, but I do know that I will wait a lifetime to have that again._

_I will always hold the memory of our time together close to my heart and I will forever treasure the future you have built for us._

_I will wait for you._  
_I love you._

_Forever, for always._

_~Felicity_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please remember this story is 'in progress'. The last lines you read are not the end of the story....
> 
> This story is not about perfect people making perfect decisions.


	20. The Fall

Felicity stared out the window at the passing scenery, her mind strolling through vivid memories she needed to hold on to as she had for the last 2 days of the train journey. She walked a light touch up her arm, imagining it was Oliver’s touching her for the first time as the light hairs stood up against goose bumps in its wake.

Her tongue gently brushed against her lips, savouring the taste that would be permanently stained on them. If she closed her eyes for just a moment she could almost feel his warmed breath against her lips.

The constant rumbling of the tracks underneath became like his heartbeat, low and heavy in her ear as she remembered resting her head against his chest, her body warmed with his, her insides turning over as her breath was panted and her toes were curled in. She could still feel him inside her, the intensity of the moment his eyes met hers as he let himself go.

Her eyes squeezed closed as she thought about the life she longed to have with him. Last night as she slept alone in the carriage, she had allowed herself to dream – she had dreamed that she carried Oliver’s baby from nights past, it was a blissful dream that gave her such peace that she had woken that morning possibly believing that there may be some truth to it, given the fact they had not used protection.

A smile had crossed her face as she ate breakfast – perhaps it was true, perhaps she did carry Oliver’s child.

…but by the time lunch had arrived in the carriage, Felicity had been visited by a sharp reality that she wasn’t pregnant, it had been a dream that she had held on to too far into the waking hours.

A small tear slid from her eye and she let it trail down her cheek as she hugged her arms around her stomach, the cramping low in her pelvis as the monthly arrival of it was a bitter pill to swallow – although she knew deep down that it was for the best.

A knock on the carriage door pulled her eyes open and her head upwards to the small porter window. Her Aunt hovered outside the door waiting for an invitation that Felicity wasn’t prepared to give her. She swiped the tear away from her cheek and turned her attention back towards the passing scenery, lapping up the way the mountains peaked and fell in the distance.

Aunt Matilda did not take the hint and opened the carriage door, slipping into the small but lavish private carriage accommodation.

“When we arrive in New York I will be intending to leave for England within a month,” she spoke as she sat on the seat across the table from where Felicity sat.  
“I have no interest in your movements,” Felicity replied without turning her head to acknowledge her Aunt’s presence.

“I have been unfair-“ Matilda started, before the raising of Felicity’s hand stilled her.  
“Don’t, please don’t pretend to repent or to care about what you have done, I have no desire to hear it, nor any forgiveness to sooth your soul with.”

“We all make choices in life Felicity, do not assume that mine were made in very differing circumstances than your own.”  
“Whatever you want me to believe, I know that the ones I make are to protect those that I care for, the ones you make are to protect only you,” Felicity bit back, her eyes narrowed with anger and her cheeks flushed red with spite.

One day perhaps she could find acceptance in her heart for what her aunt had done, but that day was not today.

“Perhaps one day you will see me differently,” Matilda stood, placing a bundled package on the table in front of Felicity, “these are all I have left, that is the truth,” she finished, smoothing her palms down her royal blue dress.

The moment hung in silence before Matilda bowed her head and left the carriage. It was only then that Felicity’s fingers danced across the package she had left on the table. She unwrapped the tissue paper from around it and almost gasped as she saw, in her own penmanship, Oliver’s name and her parent’s address.

There were only three letters, the dates on them meaning they were the last of the correspondence that Felicity had sent. They remained without a stamp and with no postmark as a testament to the truth that he had not received them.

She hugged them close to her body before slipping them into the book that sat on the table beside her. She knew the train would stop soon for an hour long disembark for those that wished to. She gathered her writing paper and fountain pen and began to write.

* * *

  
Felicity found John asleep in an armchair in the accommodation compartment he shared with some other staff of people aboard the train.

“John,” she whispered, shaking his shoulder as she kept an eye on the door of the empty carriage  
His mouth smacked open as he eyes slowly jostled with the awakening.  
“Now I know you aren’t waking a man up from his mid-afternoon sleep,” he laughed before he saw the focus in Felicity’s eyes.

“Is everything okay? Did that bastard..” he started before a shake of Felicity’s head stopped him.  
“No, I’m fine, everything is okay. I need you to get off the train at the next stop and post this for me,” she handed him the small package she had wrapped up in paper and written Tommy’s name and address on the front of.

“I would do it, but I know Ray is having me followed, so it’s best I don’t,” she said quietly, fully aware that the man who had skulked around her carriage over the past few days and followed her the last time she disembarked, had been instructed to do so by Ray.

“Not a problem Miss,” John nodded, slipping the thin package into the inside pocket of his jacket.  
“Are you sure you’re okay though Felicity? He stuck me awfully far away from your carriage and I don’t feel like I’m able to keep an eye on you back in steerage.”  
“It’s fine John, I don’t expect he will give any trouble on a train full of people, but your concern is sweet.”  
“Oliver asked me to watch out for you, your father did too.”  
Felicity winced at the mention on her father. Oliver at least understood what Felicity would do, but her parents would be blindsided but her sudden and vicious removal of them from her life. She had spent each night since leaving praying that someone they would find the strength that they needed and that they would let Oliver be the shoulder that they could rely on.

“You’re a good man John Diggle and I’ll be sure to let you know if I feel unsafe,” she kissed a quick peck on his forehead before she slipped out of the carriage and back towards the first class accommodation.

“Slumming it again Felicity?” Mary whispered as she slinked up behind Felicity.  
Felicity kept her lips folded shut as she walked towards her carriage.  
“I’m sad we had to leave Starling so soon, I would have like to have seen much more of it,” Mary smirked as she stepped in front of Felicity’s door.  
“What do you want Mary?”  
“I’m bored also very curious.”  
“I can’t help you with either of those things,” Felicity replied, attempting to reach for the door handle before Mary wrapped her hand tightly around it.

“But I’m sure you can, see I want to know what Oliver was packing, I got a fair good grip on it at dinner, but I want to know did he fuck you good?”  
The smirk on Mary’s face grew before she broke into a laugh as she stepped away from the door.  
“Never mind, your mother invited me back, I’ll guess I’ll go visit one day soon in a few months when he’s all but forgotten you and my brother is working you like a cheap whore and find out for myself.”

Felicity’s hand came down hard across Mary’s face, snapping it back towards the window of the door and sending a bolt of pain echoing up Felicity’s arm.

“Good,” Mary laughed, licking her brightly rouged lips, “my brother likes girls that will fight him, at least to begin with,” she continued as she walked away from the door.

Felicity fell into the room, pushing her weight against the door as her chest rose and fell heavily. She bolted the door and pulled the privacy curtain before letting go of the tear she had held back. She hated that Mary had got to her and she chastised herself for it, but the realisation had come suddenly that – despite John’s presence – she felt desperately alone.

A hesitant knock reverberated the door against her back as Felicity brushed the tears away and took a deep breath, determined that no one would see how this was getting to her. She pulled back the curtain to see the small and shyly smiling face of Bethany, the young house maid.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Miss, but Mrs Palmer asked me to see if you wanted anything when the train stops at the next station,” Bethany asked sweetly, her clear Jersey accent filtering through her words.

“No, I’m fine thank you,” Felicity sighed, relieved this was not another attack on her strength.  
“Are you sure Miss, I’d really like to be of help.”  
“I’m sure Mary has a terribly long list for you as it is.”  
The little girl’s face dropped as she shook her head.  
“Mary went and fired me, said she didn’t like the way I walked around too quiet like. I ain’t really sure how I’m to fix that, but she told me to sleep down with the rest of the lower people, that she don’t want me sharing with her no more.”

“She’s sending you down with the other staff?”  
“Ain’t no room for me there, I’ll be down in seats only, but I don’t mind much really.”

Felicity watched the flicker of fear pass across the young girl’s eyes. She was barely 12 and third class was crammed full of good people for the most part, but a girl of her age down there alone would be an easy target for one of the ones that wasn’t.

“That’s ridiculous, a girl of your age shouldn’t be left down there alone,” Felicity retorted, opening the door wider.  
“Come in, please, there is plenty of room in here,” Felicity smiled as she gestured around the large suite, where down one end sat the large double bed where she slept, a small writing desk and drawers, a sitting booth and finally a long padded seat that ran almost the length of the wall that doubled as a second bed.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother Miss.”  
“It’s no bother, I would quite enjoy the company.”

The train slowly pulled to a halt alongside the bustling station. It was only a few moments later that Felicity could see people from the train stepping onto the platform. Her eyes caught sight of John who tipped his hat to her and disappeared into the crowd. She smiled at the fleeting thought of Oliver getting her letter in the mail when he returned from California, likely the same time she arrived in New York.

“I could polish your shoes up nice,” Bethany spoke quietly.  
“Really, I don’t need you to do anything.”  
“I was always told idle hands ain’t worth much.”  
Felicity smiled at the young girl as she noticed a swipe of dirt across her face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say something foolish,” she apologised, her eyes pulling nervously inward.  
“Oh no, you didn’t, you just remind me in the way you speak of someone I hold very dear, I find it endearing.”  
“I aint sure what that means, but it sounds like a good thing.”  
“It most certainly is.”  
“All the same Miss, I’d like to be of help. I could polish that scuff right out,” she quipped, picking up a black heel from the shoe rack beside the drawers.

Felicity smiled realising Oliver wouldn’t be able to sit still either.  
“I would be thankful if you could.”

Bethany smiled as she almost skipped from the room, returning a few minutes later with a show shining kit. Felicity watched as she made her home on the floor beside the shoes and set about her task.

“At least you will be able to return to school in New York, now that Mary has let you go,” Felicity offered as she picked up the book she had been reading earlier.  
“I’m afraid not Miss, I have to look for ‘nother job,” Bethany answered matter-of-factly as she kept her eyes on the shoe in her hands.

“But surely your education is important.”  
“My dad is laid up and my mam don’t earn enough to feed us all. I don’t mind much, I like working.”  
“Did you enjoy school?”  
“I liked it somewhat, but I weren’t able to go for more than a term or two over the last few years, my dad ain’t been doing well for a few years now.”  
“I’m sorry to hear that.”  
“Mary said that education is wasted on people like me, long as we can read how to clean clothes we don’t need to know much else.”

“Well I happen to think Mary is an idiot.”  
Bethany laughed raucously before trapping the laugh behind her palm in horror.  
“I’m sorry Miss,” she offered graciously.  
“Why? I said it, and I’m most certainly not sorry,” Felicity replied with a smile, garnering one from Bethany in return.

* * *

  
**17 May 1924**

“I swear to God you look more tanned,” Tommy exclaimed as he embraced his friend on the doorstep of Moira and Walter’s house.  
“I was only in California a few days,” Oliver laughed as he patted his friend’s back and gestured him inside.

“Happy birthday Oliver, I know she wishes she was here,” Tommy said quietly with a soft, knowing smile.  
“I wish she was too. I feel like I abandoned her Tommy, it feels like the worst pain imaginable,” Oliver replied as he gently closed the door.

“She’ll come back Oliver, but for now,” Tommy pulled out a small package from his pocket and handed it to Oliver.

Oliver held the letters tightly in his hands, he hadn’t been expecting her to write so soon, but holding them now he wasn’t sure how he had lasted this long without her. He looked down at the letters then up to Tommy.  
“I can show myself in and entertain your family for long enough for you to read them,” Tommy smiled with a flicked of his head as he shrugged off his jacket and hung in on the coat rack, “go, read your letters.”

Oliver didn’t need any more permission as he almost ran down the hall to a quiet bedroom to use what little time he had before supper to read what she had written him.

He opened the first envelope that had his name inscribed on the front.

_14 May 1924_

_My dearest Oliver,_

_I’m so sorry that I’m not with you on your birthday tomorrow (as I write this), I long for the day when we didn’t have to miss so much of our lives. I’m sure you will spend it with family and that makes my heart smile._

_I miss you so much, I spend much of my time thinking about you, about us, and wondering if you do the same. I know that you saw me that night at my window and I want you to know that I was thinking of you when I moved my hands across my body and it felt so good._

_The only thing that has changed since that time is that I now know what you feel like, your arms around me, your lips against mine, your breath warm on my naked breasts and you completely inside me, stealing my breath from me; and now with those memories to let my mind linger on the touch I imagine as yours is even stronger now._

_No distance will take those memories from me, I hope you have similar ones to see you through the nights._

_My Aunt came to me today, I could sense her trying to apologise, but I still want nothing from her, nor do I have any forgiveness to offer her – I know that you would see things differently, you are much better than I in that regards, but for now I wish to heap loathing upon her and you, my dearest Oliver, shall let me._

Oliver felt his cheeks smiling brightly as he imagined the softest little pout she would offer with such a statement.

_She gave me these letters, said it was all she had left. I have not opened them and I do not now know exactly what is in them, but I wanted you to have them, so you understand that I always knew it would be you Oliver._

_Will you write me soon? Macie’s address is at the bottom of this letter, send it there and she will see that I get it._

_Forever, for always._  
_~Felicity_

He folded the letter back up, gently placing it back in the envelope as he looked down at the other envelopes now laid out on the bed where he sat.

_September 1923_

_Dear Oliver,_

_I wish you could see this place Oliver, as much as I miss Starling, there is a little something special about New York in fall. It’s stunning, I hope one day I could show you it. I see so many places that I often think you would enjoy. To watch the leaves turn together in Central Park, or just taking a stroll through the streets as the weather begins to cool – these are but a few of the things I wish I could share with you._

_I know time must have changed you some, it changes us all eventually, but I’m almost certain there is still some of that Oliver that I remember inside you._

_I often wonder if you would remember me, if you would know me if you saw me. A lot has changed for me, but my fondness for the friendship we shared has not._

_~Felicity_

Oliver moved onto the second letter, opening it slowly before reading the carefully folded letter.

  
_October 1923_

_Dear Oliver,_

_I won’t pretend for a moment that you will write me back, but writing to you has become my own little escape and I shall continue to do it until you tell me otherwise._

_That bore of a man Ray is here again, I’m pretending not to notice the way my Aunt tries to insist that I sit near him or engage him in conversation. He’s as boring as they come Oliver, like a stank old birthing blanket from the stables that no one sees to throwing away._

_There is something that I’ve held back from you across all these letters, but I’ll be 17 in a few months and I think you ought to know it._

_As a girl I was smitten with you Oliver Queen; the silly type of smitten that would see me feeding chickens just to spend a little time with you, I wrote your name with mine as though we would share a life together. These are the thoughts of a child and I smile thinking about them now; and yet they haven’t left me entirely even seven years later. I’m not foolish, I know the path laid out for me with whatever suitor I am forced to pretend is charming and not in the least a terrible bore, but before I accept such I will look you in the eyes and ask you to kiss me, because that is an answer I need to hear regardless of what it is._

_~Felicity_

The final letter shook in his hands as he opened it with a heavy breath.

  
_January 1924_

_Dear Oliver,_

_I’m sorry that I have not written you for two months, I foolishly thought perhaps my last letter might prompt you to reply to me, so I waited out my time. It didn’t seem to make much of a difference._

_Any smart girl would take the hint, but I’m pretending to not notice it till you tell me otherwise. Mam won’t give me much news on you, just says you’re well when I press her enough about it. I have learned not to ask much anymore, for some reason I fear it makes her uncomfortable. Perhaps these letters never actually find you and you have been gone for years. What a strange thing that would be._

_Still, I take great comfort in writing them Oliver, it brings me untold peace to write to you. You always made me feel I had a friend in you deep down, even if you were blind to the feelings I harboured for you._

_I will return in March, Mam doesn’t seem pleased about it and Aunt Matilda threw a fit when I told her I had bought the ticket home. I know they will push an engagement onto me soon, but I can’t until I know for certain that there is not a hope for us. Writing this it seems foolish, like I should know by now that you don’t have any interest in me Oliver, but I can’t let this go till you stand opposite me and tell me that I am foolish for thinking there ever could be._

_I should like so much to see your folks and Thea, she must have grown so much now. I don’t know what happened to us Oliver, why we couldn’t remain close despite the distance, but I do hope that we could be friends despite the seasons that have gone by._

_Your friend,_  
_~Felicity_

Oliver folded the last letter back up, his eyes drawing softly closed. She had held onto his memory – their memory – longer than he had, but he knew this time she would not need to, they would hold onto each other until he could bring them back together.

* * *

  
The house was something akin to a luxury hotel in the suburbs of New York, the sprawling building sat perched in the middle of lush gardens and a long sweeping drive. It was two storeys in height and the white brick façade was trimmed in gold coloured moulding and window framing.

By any standards set, the Palmer family mansion was a beautiful house, but from the moment Felicity’s heels tapped against the marble entrance she could hear the emptiness echoing through it. It was no home.

The rest of the train journey had been uneventful to say the least, Ray had spent much of his time in the smoking carriage playing poker with the other upper class men aboard. She had barely seen him except at meals which she ate quickly and then retired to her accommodation.

Nothing had been said of the altercation between Mary and herself and they had not exchanged any words for the rest of the trip, Mary instead choosing to take delight in the coy gestures she would throw her way.

Bethany had become welcomed company, given that John was unable to stay long in first class and had instead spent most of the journey gaining names of contacts he could see once in New York.

She had told Felicity that she had once dreamed of becoming a writer, that her father had read great books to her as a child, but with his failing health he had lost much of his eyesight and was unable to speak as he once could. While she could read well enough, she was unable to read those same books back to him.

Bethany laid the suitcases into the room that Felicity would call home for now as living with Ray’s parents was the suitable thing to do, Ray keeping his 5 bedroom town house in the upper east side of Manhattan, which she would move into “once they were wed”; a fact she was frequently reminded of by his mother.

“And what of you now? Where will you go?” Felicity asked as she padded around the large bedroom suit, complete with brocade curtains and plush ivory carpet.  
“Mam found me a job at the factory, I start there in a few days.”

Felicity winced at the thought of the young girl working a 12 hour shift at a tiresome job grinding her life and dreams away into nothing.

“What if you were to stay here?”  
“Miss Mary has no need of me.”  
“What if you stayed with me?”  
“Miss, you don’t need any lady in waiting.”  
“I know that and you know that, but if I insist on it,” Felicity tapped a finger lightly to her lips, “I should like you to stay Bethany, they will think you company for me and I will teach you what you ought to be learning at school. You’ll still bring home a wage for your mother, but you won’t be wasting your mind in a factory.”

Bethany’s eyes lit up at the prospect before she bowed her head and softly shook it.  
“I can’t ask that of you Miss.”  
“You didn’t, but I offer it all the same. I’m not to hold a job here so anything that would see me not sit idle for days would be a life saver for me, say yes.”

Bethany folded her lips over the offer, slowly tugging at the end of her braid as she gave it some thought.  
“Only if you also let me work some, I wouldn’t feel right otherwise,” she finally replied.  
“That’s a fair deal,” Felicity smiled, extending a hand.  
Bethany took it and shook it lightly, a happy, but slightly hesitant smile drawing over her lips.

* * *

  
**19 May 1924**

“Is this the place?” John asked, pulling the beige Rolls Royce alongside the curb of the Manhattan redbrick apartment building.  
“This is it,” Felicity nodded, staring down the lofty tree-lined street.

It was the weekend house Macie had returned to while Felicity had gone to her Aunt’s. Once Macie had finished her studies her parents had promised the house would be hers for a year at the end of which time Macie was to have a plan about her future.

“And you don’t need me to stay?” John asked, leaving his arm over the front seat as he twisted to look at Felicity.  
“No, I’ll be quite alright here.”  
“There is a black car, parked three cars behind, he’s followed us since we left.”

Felicity glanced back before nodding over John’s astute observation.  
“I’m going to head across to visit some acquaintances after this, I’m not sure its best they know that,” he surmised.  
Felicity opened the door of the Rolls, placing a heeled foot on the pavement.  
“When you see me talking with them, take off, it should give you a head start enough to lose them in the side streets.”  
“Look after yourself Miss Felicity,” John smiled, tipping his hat.  
“Oliver will write you soon,” he added, sensing her fear that history would repeat itself and something would stop their communicating.

She offered him a thankful smile as she stepped from the car, silently reminding herself that he would write and that he would come for her.

She swallowed down a forming lump in her throat as she smoothed down the soft linen fabric of her draped navy dress. Her fingers toyed with the white lace bow collar as she walked towards the black Buick sedan, swinging the small bag wrapped over her wrist.

She smiled as she tapped on the window. The man in the passenger seat sheepishly rolled down the window.  
“Are you boys looking for me?” she asked, tapping the grey woollen baker boy hat to keep their eyes dutifully on her.  
“No Miss,” came the hushed reply.  
“But Ray did send you?” Felicity glanced back up the road smiling as she watched John’s car slowly pull away from the curb.  
“No Miss.”  
“Hey you,” she snapped, leaning in through the window to get the driver’s attention.  
He snapped his puckered face at her, his eyes sharp and cold – he didn’t appreciate her tone, that was obvious.  
“You can pick my dry cleaning up while you wait for me to come out,” she smirked as she heard the car drive off in the distance.

Before either of the men had realised, John had driven around the corner as disappeared.  
“Also I need some new hose, petite size, sand coloured,” Felicity grinned before tapping the roof of the car and walking away.

She stood on the doorstep of the apartment building and buzzed the intercom for Apartment #3.  
“Hello?” came the familiar sound of an old friend.  
“Macie, it’s Felicity, I need to talk to you.”

* * *

  
“My god,” Macie sighed as she sat back in the white lux chair, her slender fingers toying with the front strands of her pinned platinum bob.  
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Felicity replied, sighing at the relief of being able to tell her good friend about where things stood.

“So what are we doing about it all then?” Macie asked, leaning forward in the chair, her hands clasped in front of her.  
Felicity stared across the table and shook her head lightly.  
“You are doing nothing, there are already more people involved than I would like, but I needed you to just be my mailbox.”

“I have a new fella.”  
“That isn’t surprising,” Felicity laughed playfully.  
“Step up from the trumpet man in many departments,” Macie winked, “but that isn’t the point, he’s a barkeep at one of the undergrounds on 133rd Street, gets a lot guys in there that have big egos and lose lips, maybe I can see if I can help you out with information.”  
“Macie, please-“  
“I phrased that as a question, but I wasn’t asking. I’m not sitting this one out Felicity.”  
“Macie, please, I can’t see you mixed up in this.”  
“But you are, and through no fault of your own, how is that fair?”  
Felicity sighed, running a hand through her wavy locks before she gently shrugged her shoulders – that was a question she didn’t have an answer for.

Macie watched Felicity with darkly rimmed blue eyes, blinking at the distress etched through Felicity’s expression.  
“So let’s talk about something else, Oliver, he’s good kind right?”  
Felicity let a smile perk up across her face.  
“He’s the best kind,” she replied, touching a finger to the small string ring she still wore.  
“And he loves you aplenty?”  
Felicity nodded, slowly but without hesitation – she knew absolutely where they stood, not a bone in her body doubted it, although she feared the toll the distance would take on them.

“Well, he’d be a fool not to,” Macie smiled, kicking back her leg as she settled back down into the seat.  
“I should like to meet him,” she quipped pulling a cigarette from the packet on the small table beside the chair.  
“I should think he would enjoy meeting you.”  
“Did he enjoy you Felicity?” she smiled, lighting the cigarette before she took a long, drawn puff.

Felicity cupped her hand to her mouth, her cheeks flushed peach with embarrassment.  
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Macie grinned, the rose red of her lips in stark contrast to her bright white smile.  
“And how was it for you?” she asked, tapping the cigarette on the rim of the bone china ashtray.

Felicity shied away from the question, her face heating up at the thought.  
“He was a perfect gentleman,” Felicity finally replied, her soft pink lips pouting into a gentile smile  
Macie frowned as she drew in another breath.  
“The first time,” Felicity added with her own coy chuckle.  
“That,” Macie grinned, pointing the cigarette toward Felicity, “is the face of a girl who has felt the sweet pleasures of a man willing to shop downtown.”

For the second time in the same conversation Felicity held a manicured hand across her mouth and blinked at her friend.  
“I should definitely like to meet this Oliver and shake his hand,” Macie spoke, cocking her head to the side as she took another slow drag, “my god, it’s absolutely written across you face, that fella must be something awfully special.”  
“He is Macie, he’s my Oliver,” Felicity replied simple, a hand touched against the side of her neck as she lingered on a memory of his face.  
_Her Oliver. Forever, for always._

* * *

  
Felicity stood at the balcony doors of her second story room and let the falling evening sweep over her body as she pulled the peach silk robe tighter around her slender frame, letting her eyes fall closed as the wind swept up her loose hair.

“You bath is drawn miss, I’ll just attend to a few more things in the bathroom, then I’ll leave you for the night,” Bethany spoke sweetly from behind.

Felicity smiled graciously as she watched Bethany, over her shoulder, walk quietly back into the bathroom.

A knock on the door drew Felicity’s gaze toward it. Bethany stepped from the bathroom once more, heading towards the ornately carved white bedroom door before a light shoulder tap stopped her.

“It’s fine, you finish up, I’ll see to my visitor,” Felicity sighed wistfully eager to relax in the warm bath Bethany had run.

Felicity waited until Bethany had returned to the bathroom before she unlocked the bedroom door. Assuming she might find John on the other side she pulled the door open with a smile, only to be greeted by Ray’s scowl and the pungent smell of cigars and whiskey.

“You went out today?” Ray asked, his eyes narrowing against Felicity as she wrapped the nightgown closer around her body.  
“Your friends in the black car told you?” Felicity responded, her fingers tapping the back of the door.

Ray pushed the door with a frustrated fist, sending it slamming against the wall and forcing Felicity to jump back.

He stepped into the room, flicking the door closed again with a heavy bang.  
“You visited a friend without seeking my approval?” he hissed, standing over her, the blue in his eyes shifting to a deep grey.  
“Am I to be a prisoner in these walls?” she replied stepping distance between them.  
“I have the right to know where you go and who you see.”  
“You have no such right.”  
“I have every right, you are my possession!” he yelled, stepping towards her once more, the red across his temples like fire.  
“I don’t belong to you,” she replied, just a hinted quiver in her voice.  
“I suppose you think he will come for you, wait for you, always love you?” Ray growled through clenched teeth.

Felicity closed her mouth, her chest rising and falling heavily as she stemmed back her words.  
“Let’s see what it would take to bring him here,” he spoke, licking his lips with malice.

His hand came down heavier against her cheek than she could have imagined it would. The force sent her stumbling backwards, her body stumbling into a small table sending the ornate decorative vase atop it falling to the ground, shattering the white ceramic into a cascade of pieces.

His hand wrapped forcefully around her small wrist, yanking her to her feet before throwing her back towards the wall. Her back hit the embroidered wallpaper with a force that knocked the wind from her lungs, her body swaying forward before her grabbed both her hands, pinning them above her head.

“I tire of your smart mouth, I suggest you learn to shut it, or perhaps I will fill it with something,” he breathed coldly into her ear.

Felicity felt the fear swarming over her body, the tears were close to escaping from her eyes, but she would not let them. Ray Palmer would not break her.

She poised her lips, emotionless, her eyes locking in on his before she finally opened her mouth to speak.  
“If you tire of this, allow me to leave, because I won’t change for the likes of you,” she replied, her tongue laced with contempt.  
“I would sooner see you in an unmarked grave then to give you the freedom you want,” he laughed, slamming her wrists against the wall.

Felicity winced at the pain that shot down her forearms, but her eyes would not lower and her lips would not betray her emotions.

“Don’t mistake my desire for you as a weakness,” he whispered as his lips pushed wet kisses across her check, his warmth breath sticky against her ear, “I will take what I want from you.”  
“And I will fight you every step of the way,” she spat back, twisting her face away from his advances.  
“Good, that will make it more fun,” he smiled against her face, his cheek pressed into her own, stinging the skin where he had slapped her.

He dropped her wrists as stepped back, the smile not dissipating from his face as he walked towards the door.

“Do not leave this house again without my authorising it,” he spoke, the threat clear in his voice what would happen if she did.

She looked aware from his cold stare as he pulled open the door and walked casually out it, closing it with a hauntingly quiet click.

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut as she cupped her hand across her mouth and wept. Her body slid down the wall, landing in a huddled heap, her back hunched against the wall as her body rocked with her tears.

“Miss?” Bethany asked from the doorway of the bathroom, her small frame shaking as her eyes blew wide.  
Felicity caught her breath with a sharp intake, she had forgotten she had not be alone in the room.  
“How much did you see?” Felicity asked, her voice trembling as she tried to steady her shaking hand against her stinging cheek.  
“I saw it all Miss,” she replied, scurrying to Felicity’s side.  
“I’m sorry about the vase, I’ll clear it up,” Felicity breathed, her voice shaking and panted.  
Bethany placed her young hand onto Felicity’s.  
“It’s not for now to worry about Miss, shall I fetch Mister Diggle?” she asked, concern coursing through her words.  
“No,” Felicity replied, her tear-marred eyes looking up at the girl knelt beside her, “You can’t tell him, you can’t tell anyone, about what you saw.”

Felicity knew that if John knew she would not be able to quell the resulting storm that would surely bring Oliver to New York, something she knew Ray was hoping for.

“But Miss, he ought not do that to you,” Bethany cried, her eyes glancing at the violent red mark across Felicity’s pale cheek.  
“You must promise me that you won’t speak a word of it, please Bethany.”  
Felicity clutched her hand tightly, her eyes begging for reassurance of Bethany’s silence.

“If that’s what you want Miss,” she replied weakly.  
“It is, thank you,” Felicity whispered, her breath hitched and shaking.  
“I should have come out, I should have stopped him.”  
Felicity pulled the young girls head to her chest and hugged her tightly, a hand sweeping over Bethany’s auburn hair.

“There weren’t nothing you could do, staying hidden was the best thing for it,” she assured her softly as the two hugged each other tightly.

“I’m sorry Miss,” Bethany whispered through tears.  
“It’s okay, you did nothing wrong,” Felicity soothed.  
The moments slipped by in silence as they sat huddled on the bedroom floor, the tipped table and broken vase a testament to the reason for their fear.

* * *

 

The morning was crisp and clear, the white powder on Felicity’s face hid the slight redness of her cheek although her azure eyes could not disguise their distress so easily.

She sat down at the large wrought iron table, choosing the seat that allowed the sun to warm her face as she offered half hearted morning wishes to Mrs Palmer.

A hand smoothed over her shoulder causing her to startle underneath it as Ray placed an acted kiss against her cheek, smiling at her shuddering from it before he took the seat opposite her at the table laid out with breakfast.  
  
“Miss, this telegram came for you,” the housemaid said gently as she handed Felicity the folded note with a curtsey.  
“Thank you,” Felicity replied simply as she took the note into her hands, aware of the watchful eye Ray was casting over the table at her.

Her heart sank as she saw it was from her parents, a kindly letter asking how she was, saying that they missed her and that they should like to visit soon. Felicity bit the inside of her lip to stop hers quivering lips from giving her expression away. She swallowed down the emotion as screwed the note up, tossing it to the middle of the table.

“Something displeases you my love?” Ray asked as reached for the note.  
“It’s from my parents, I have no need to retain it,” Felicity replied callously as she took another small bit from her toast.  
“They wish to visit,” Ray remarked as he read the crinkled note.  
“I do not wish them to.”  
“But they will be coming to the wedding?” Ray’s mother perked up, his father removed from the conversation by his wall of newspaper.

“I suspect so mother,” Ray replied.  
Felicity sipped back her orange drink, her lips staying frightfully still as she prepared her tone to speak.  
“I should think not, I have no reason to wish them here.”  
“But New York is so lovely in the fall, have they seen it that time of year?”  
Felicity turned her head, her brows pulled inward quizzically.  
“The fall? I shouldn’t see why the season would matter.”  
“Mother, it was to be a surprise for Felicity.”

“Oh my, have I ruined it?” his mother spoke, her eyes genuinely devastated – how she could not see the contempt Felicity held for her son was a complete mystery.  
“Not at all mother,” Ray smiled, leaning to place a measured kiss on his mother’s cheek.

“Felicity, great news, I was able to secure The Plaza for an October wedding, I know how much you enjoy New York in the fall, watching the leaves fall in Central Park, or strolling through the streets.”  
Felicity swallowed down her disgust at the way he could so easily change his tone depending on his audience.  
“October is only five months away Ray, I don’t see that as enough time,” she replied, her breath slightly hitched at the prospect that time may be limited.  
“Nonsense, I have enough _friends_ in this world to make sure it goes off without a hitch. Then we can start our life together.”

Felicity dabbed the white napkin to her lips before standing from the outdoor table.  
“My apologies, I suddenly feel a little flush, if you’ll excuse me,” she said quietly, placing the folded napkin beside her plate and briskly walking away.

She could feel the food rising up her stomach, the instant and sudden flush of fear washing over her with a wave of nausea.

She had to October, until the Fall.  
Perhaps she should have been fearful, perhaps she should have been worried, but she was neither. Ray’s threat had been meant to break her down a little more but it had had the opposite effect in spurring her on.

There would be no wedding in the fall.  
If she had to wield a literal knife herself, she would not marry Ray Palmer and he would not lay another hand on her.

 


	21. The Streets Have Eyes

**25 May 1924**

As the midday sun filtered through the conservatory where Felicity sat alone, as she had since returning from Sunday service, the news that Beulah May Annan had been sensationally acquitted of the murder of her lover had brought a grin across Felicity’s lips, curling them into a smile, not due to any circumstances of the case, but more because of how insanely mad the idea that a _woman_ had shot a _man_ had made Ray.

The way him and his father had shown their outrage around the lunch table and Mrs Palmer had sat deathly still, it would not surprise Felicity if she was one day reading that Ray’s mother had finally snapped and shot her husband. Felicity had decided in that moment she would absolutely throw her support behind an acquittal.

Since then the men had disappeared into the drawing room to discuss politics and pat themselves on the back for their quiet and dutiful wives. It was during her rolling her eyes at such a thought that there was a light knock on the door, Bethany appearing through the cracked door.

“Miss Macie is here to see you Miss,” she said quietly, with a bright smile.  
“Thank you Bethany, you can go home for the day, I’ll ensure you’re paid for it, but you don’t need to stay,” Felicity replied, sitting up in the white can chair as she folded her book closed.  
“Thank you Miss,” Bethany nodded, opening get the door for Macie who strutted in white a bright red smile.

Bethany closed the door as Macie and Felicity embraced, a welcomed interaction for Felicity.  
“That girl is adorable,” Macie smiled, tucking her flamboyant gold lamè dress against her legs as she sat down opposite Felicity.

“You hear about Annan?” Macie gushed.  
“I did,” Felicity smiled.  
“All the men are wetting their britches, what a sight. Mark my words, they’ll make a play of that, it’s too good not to, and I’ll be auditioning for it.”  
“And I’ll be there front and centre opening night.”  
“With him hopefully.”  
Macie rummaged through her purse for a few minutes before she pulled out a slightly crinkled envelope and handed it to Felicity.

“He wrote you Felicity, just like he would have all those years ago.”  
Felicity lightly feathered her fingers over the corners of the envelope as a single tear slid from her eye, born from relief.

“Felicity, doll, say the word and I’ll see you on the first train home, this place is stealing your light,” Macie sighed, touching a hand to Felicity’s knee.  
“I can’t, not until Ray has nothing to threaten with,” Felicity replied with a heavy sigh.  
“Can’t we speak to the police? There must be something to be done about it.”  
Felicity’s lips pursed into a pained smile.  
“The chief of police is having cigars with Ray as we speak, I don’t have many people I can trust Macie, but I have faith in those I do,” her fingers danced along the edge of the envelope, “thank you for bringing this to me.”

Macie smiled as she stood, her hand folding through Felicity’s curled locks as she pressed an affectionate kiss atop her head.  
“That fella will come for you, there isn’t a doubt in my mind,” she spoke as she gathered her bag.  
“I know,” Felicity replied, the surety of her belief clear in her eyes, “He will.”

* * *

  
Macie had left and Felicity had walked hurried up to her second storey room, eager to read news from home, written carefully in Oliver’s hand

She locked her door and settled into the large pink and white ornate boudoir chair, her small feet tucked up under her body.

With a soft sigh through blushed pink lips she peeled back the envelope and gently removed the folded letter. He had written her – just as he had promised.

  
_17 May 1923_

_My love,_

_I pray this finds you well. Thank you for your letters, to read them brought me a feeling like you were right here with me._

_I know I’m not much of a writer, nor a poet but I write to you with my heart and I hope it sees you smile. I miss you. With you gone it’s like I’m missing the best parts of everything, the sun don’t feel as warm, food don’t taste as good and without you I don’t feel whole._

_I miss the way you felt in my arms, the way your hair could run through my fingertips, I miss every day I got to spend with you. Please tell me that you’re okay, I can’t bear the thought that you ain’t._

_California was a sight to behold, Mr Rankin’s son is running a place out there that is turning hand over foot in profit, shipping the best horses off around the world. He says people don’t have the time to be training their own no more, that a lot of folk just want somewhere they can come to ride without needing their own land to keep em. He watched me work some, said he ain’t seen a horse take so easily to a stranger. Felicity, he offered me a job right there and then._

_I thanked him of course, but said I had somethings to take care of in Starling – just like I promised you. He said the job was always open, but more than that he said if I could find the land and go back to him with a plan that he would fund another ranch just like his in Starling, says it’s a growing town. If I can convince your Pap that this it’ll be the best thing for him then with the Rankin’s backing he could be out from under the bank in no time._

_Tommy says he’s heard some whispers, some names about the other problem. Says he will write John soon, but that there may be some promise in it._

_Your parents are well, your father has taken ill with the season, but it will pass I am sure. Your mother has warmed to me some, she asked if I had heard from you. As you wished, I told her I had not. I will continue to watch over them._

_Have hope Felicity, make sure you keep it – if I could give you mine I would, but know that I ain’t stopping till you’re back in my arms where you belong._

_I’ll build you that house yet Miss. Keep that thought close._

_I love you, you’re my forever._

_Yours for always,_  
_~Oliver_

Felicity wept silently, single tears falling onto the slightly browned paper. There were tears that missed him intensely, tears that imagined his face as he wrote her, tears that thought about a life without him and tears that imagined the forever life with him.... she was neither sad nor happy, but caught in the middle finger both, desperately clinging to her hope desperately clinging to his.

She needed to write him immediately, so it was with haste she moved to her white Parisian writing desk.

_25 May 1924_

_My dearest Oliver,_

_Your letter reached me when I needed to hear from you the most. I miss home and you terribly, as though my heart is broken to pieces, but your letter brings me hope, you bring me hope._

_I am scared for the future Oliver, as though I’m floating in a storm just trying to keep my head above water. I fear without your hope I would drown._

_It warms me greatly to hear of your experience in California and that people can see just how amazing I always knew you were._

_Ray has set a date in October for us to wed, I toyed with telling you this or not, but I cannot think to keep anything back from you. Please Oliver, if time is against us and October comes with little hope for us, take the job in California. I will continue my time here knowing that you are doing something you love, then, when enough time has passed, I will come to you. You will find me where I promised._

_Do not linger in Starling my love, you are worth so much more than what it offers you._

_Thank you for news of my parents, the parting will become easier in time, I hope. I do not know if this is just idle truth, but I do know with you they have a beautiful heart watching out for them._

_I will end this letter on my dreams of us Oliver. I know that soon I will lay beside you, my trembling hands will touch your face and I will promise to be yours forever. Nothing will steal that dream from me._

_The house you have built for me in my heart is my perfect home._

_I love you, forever, for always._  
_~ Felicity_

* * *

**14 June 1924**

It was a heavy fall Saturday evening as Felicity slowly drew a brush through her golden locks, staring wistfully at her reflection in the carved mirror of her vanity. It had been a two weeks since she received word from Oliver, a little less than that since John had posted her letter back to him.

John had easily worked himself through many underground doors and had gathered much information. While the Outfit trusted Ray implicitly, his money and higher class connections providing them with an in they would not ordinarily have, there were dispersions amongst them. Ray had made his fair share of enemies outside the Outfit as well as a smattering inside it. John was confident that if they could find some proof of Ray double crossing them, either in truth or in a set up, it would be enough to rock the foundations he’d built inside the gang.

He had assured Felicity that it was promising and she had chosen to find promise in it.

“Miss, your gowns for tomorrow have arrived back,” Bethany smiled as she walked into the room, two dresses in fabric garment bag draped over her small arms.  
“Thank you Bethany, you can put them in the closet,” Felicity smiled, placing her brush onto the vanity before swiping a moist facial tissue across her tired eyes.

“The black is my favourite Miss, it looks so elegant.”  
Felicity nodded with a melancholic. Tomorrow would see a luncheon at the house after morning service and the same evening would see Felicity attending the theatre.  
“I should love to have a dress like that,” Bethany continued her idle speak as she hung the dresses on the brass hooks in the closest.  
“The dress is just a wrapping, even the finest of dresses doesn’t make a rotten person beautiful, nor does a dress made of plain cotton and thread mean a person less than another,” Felicity replied with a soft smile.  
Bethany gently eased Felicity’s hair back into her small hands and started the braid, her brown youthful eyes focused on the task.

“I hope to be like you Miss, to have both.”  
“As much as it is within my power, you’ll have much more,” Felicity offered, with a promise she intended to keep.

Bethany finished the braid and tied it off gently with a strip of cotton. She opened her mouth to speak when loud voices from the back garden intruded into the once still night air.

Felicity stood, stepping closer to the open patio doors, looking past the lightly flapping curtain.

“You promised me a bigger share, I’m the one with my neck out there, I ought to get a little more perks for it,” the accent was distinctive, but it was not a voice Felicity had heard.

“This is not the place nor the time,” the response was from Ray, low but loud enough that Felicity heard each word, as well as the anger that was caught up in his tone.

Felicity narrowed her eyes, hiding her body behind the curtain, desperate to make a face for the stranger with the thick Boston accent. The light was dim, but enough to show a mop of light hair, wide shoulders and a height that was a few feet shorter that Ray.

“Do you know who that man is with Ray?” Felicity asked as Bethany stood beside her, sneaking a quick look outside.  
“I think that’s Mikey Miss, he spent a month’s worth of nights with Miss Mary till she grew bored of him, he’s street level, so it weren’t going to last none.”  
“Does he work with Ray?”  
“I couldn’t figure why, he’s solid in muscle and in brain Miss, I hardly think he’d be of use in banking.”

Felicity watched as Ray pushed the man out the side garden gate, the two shortly disappearing out onto the street.

“It’s late out, have John run you home,” Felicity spoke, pulling the patio doors closed.

* * *

  
The morning had come too soon for Felicity, the morning light bouncing around her room rousing from a dream of Oliver that would see her cheeks blush pink. It had been a step back to the moment he had come across her bathing in the tree-curtained bathtub, but he had come with flowers and the warmest smile for her. He had bent down, kissing her temple and running his strong hands over her shoulders.

She had watched him shortly after, peel off his clothes. The water rose up around her as his body slipped into the tub behind her. He had spent dream-hours drawing his fingers over her naked skin, whispering simple words about his day into her ear.

She lapped it up, for all its simplistic notion, it felt real, it felt home.

Even now, an hour later and at the breakfast table where she sat alone, Ray stretched out on a nearby lounger, a cigar already in hand as he flipped through a newspaper, she was warmed by that touching dream. Oliver was her home as much as she was his.

It was a young maid with a white box carried in both arms that pulled Felicity back to the present.

“This was just delivered for you Miss,” she bowed placing the box on the table.  
Felicity gently eased the lid off the plain white box. It was lined inside with fine layers of rose coloured tissue paper which Felicity folded open.

She knew what it was the instant she saw the delicate lace of the antique wedding veil that she had been in awe of as a young girl. She touched a light finger to the point d'esprit dotted throughout.

She saw the handwritten note pinned to the inside of the tissue paper, recognising her mother’s penmanship.

 _Felicity_  
_This was mine when I married your father, and it was my mother’s before me. I hope you see to wearing it too._

Felicity placed the lid back onto the box and handed it back to the house maid.  
“Send it back,” she spoke callously, with barely a scratch of emotion in her voice.  
“Miss?” the maid asked, unsure she had heard the instructions correctly.  
“I don’t want this, or any other trite gifts from my mother, send it back,” she snapped coldly, a show for Ray’s watchful eyes.  
“Miss there was a note that came with it,” the maid went to hand the small envelope to Felicity.

Felicity’s heart felt the rip as she held her hand up and refused the note.  
“I have no interest in reading it, you can throw it in the bin. Return the veil.”  
She returned to the book she was reading as the maid bowed and scampered away.

“Refusing to write them, not accepting your mother’s gifts, is there a reason for this?” Ray asked, blowing a billowing of smoke like a halo in the space between them as he stood from his chair.

“I have no interest in pandering to them,” she spoke without blinking her eyes from her book, her soft lips pouting over each word.  
“You and I, we got off on the wrong foot,” he smiled, sliding down into the chair beside her.  
“The wrong foot? You threaten me, keep me here even though I don’t love you, kill my horse and blackmail me to marry you, you think that constitutes the wrong foot?” she asked, placing the open book on the table.

Ray smiled, blowing out an exhaled laugh as he leaned in closer. His hand walked up her leg, lightly skating under the hem of her skirt.  
“I never wanted to do any of those things, you made me do it,” he breathed the words softly, pushing warm air against her shoulder.  
“We could be something great,” he smiled as his hand crawled further up her leg, skimming her thigh.

Felicity moved quickly, one hand stopping the advancement of his along her thigh while the other grabbed the fruit knife from her plate, her body shifted in her seat as she held the blade of the knife firm against the crease of his upper thigh, the point of it against the lump of his cock.  
“I will ask you once to remove your hand or with a flick of my wrist I will see you irrevocably damaged.”  
She watched as his smile grew wider, his eyes lighting up with some sick enjoyment.  
“I look forward to our wedding night,” he replied simply, pulling back his hand.

He watched her as he pulled a black velvet box from his pocket. Slowly he opened the box and slid it across the table.

Felicity’s eyes fell on the polished white pearl single strand necklace, standing out beautifully against the black crushed velvet backdrop, but tarnished by the man who offered such a gift.

“You’ll wear this tonight for me,” he growled, his lips inches from her neck as he stood.  
“Is that a request or a demand?” she asked coldly, her eyes staring blankly ahead  
“How about you don’t wear them and find out which I meant,” he menaced, tracing a fingertip along her collarbone for just a moment before he disappeared into the house.

Felicity closed her eyes, allowing a single tear to draw a path down her cheek, a tear she shed for her mother, the cold return of the veil would take a toll, Felicity was sure of that.

* * *

Felicity smoothed a palm down the side of her silk crepe dress, the soft paled green colour trimmed with dedicated hand stitched lace. The garden was brimming with people she knew little of, nor did she care to as she stood with Macie and John as far as appropriately allowed from any hearing ears.

“And what have you found?” she asked, her eyes watching across the garden that no one had taken any interest in them.  
“The Outfit is mighty fixated on the Canadian crossing, two of the shipments in the last month have been stolen, the other one was stopped by the Bulls who that knew they were coming. They’re pretty certain there is a mole, but no one seems to be taking stock out to the streets,” John surmised his hands rolling over each other.  
“So it’s not another gang?” Felicity asked, pulling back a loose curl that hung over her powdered face  
“If it is, they’re playing smart, not showing their hand,” John replied.  
“My barkeep says there is one guy, sounds like he’s straight from Boston, he’s been paying for things lately he hasn’t had a dime to spend on before,” Macie spoke, toying with the rim of her glass.

“Any name?” John asked.  
“Says he goes by Mace or Mike or something like that, bulky fella with a tattoo on his arm, something that looks like a chorus girl, that isn’t much help,” Macie replied.  
“It could be, Ray was having an argument with a guy called Mikey last night,” Felicity replied, her eyes bouncing from face to face in the see of elite dressed in their finery – _maybe they would get lucky._

Her eyes fell on the blond scruffy hair of someone who didn’t quite fit it. A bulky 5’6ish guy dressed in a shirt and vest that was of high quality, but not quite tailored across the shoulders. It was the shirt of a man that had come into money and had bought something off the rack, probably unaware that to be part of the rich crowd one must always tailor.

“Could that be him?” Felicity asked nodding her head inconspicuously as she sipped at her ice tea.  
Macie squinted her eyes, shading them from the sunlight with her hand as she watched the guy in the distance.

“I can’t be sure, it could be,” she shrugged apologetically.  
“I’ll go find out about the tattoo,” John said, sidling past Felicity.  
“Wait John, you asking to see his arm tattoo probably isn’t going to go down well and will probably cause a scene. Let me,” she smiled, switching her almost finished glass of ice tea with Macie’s almost full one.

“Are you sure that’s wise doll?” Macie asked, her voice laced with concern as she caught Felicity’s arm.  
“I can’t do much locked in this house, I need to feel like I have some use in me still” Felicity replied, easing her arm from Macie’s grip “I need to feel some control over my life.”  
Macie nodded that she understood as Felicity walked towards the man, caught up in a conversation with a server – another tell-tale sign he wasn’t use to this type of atmosphere.

Felicity took a breath and licked her painted lips, glossing them with a slick of her tongue.  
She walked with purpose towards him and straight into his left shoulder, spilling the entire glass of ice tea down his back.  
His face grew instantly red, looking ready to explode into a rage until she stepped in front of him.  
“I’m so sorry, that was completely my fault,” she pleaded, her eyes blinking softly as her fingertips grazed over his forearm.

His temperament instantly cooled as she saw his eyes walk briefly up and down her.  
“That’s alright Miss, no harm done,” he replied, the accent a sure ringer for the one she had heard the night before.

“Come, let me clean you up, I insist,” she toyed with his fingers for a few seconds before grasping his hand in hers.  
It was calloused and dry – definitely not the hand of a gentleman.

She ferried him quickly into the house, through the kitchen and into the large washroom that sat behind it.  
“I’m afraid I haven’t the sense to be a little more careful,” Felicity smiled.  
She hated the idea of flirting with any man, the idea of which sullying the promise she had made in her heart to Oliver – but she needed answers and she knew this was the way to get them.

“I’m afraid this will have to come off for one of the ladies to clean it up Mister?”  
“Mikey,” he smiled, his thick fingers gently undoing each button of his shirt without needing further prompting.  
“You’re Ray’s girl, right?” he asked, nodding his head as he raised his brows, his fingers reaching the final button.  
“I suppose you could say that,” she pouted, slowly tracing her fingers down his arms as she pushed the shirt from his shoulders.  
“I can see why he’s fond of you Miss.”  
She felt his gaze fall on her chest before meandering down her body.  
“Please call me Felicity, and I’m deeply flattered,” she smiled, laying his discarded shirt and vest on the laundry table.  
A plain as day she spotted the chorus girl on his left bicep – he was the same man Macie had spoken about.

“Do you work with Ray?” she asked, leaning her elbows against the table as he turned to face her.  
“We’re associates,” he replied with a smirk.  
“At the bank?”  
She idly drew a finger down her neck, folding it into her hair before letting it float into the space between them.

“In some other ventures,” he replied coyly.  
“I should have known, a man like you would be wasted behind a desk,” she smiled, pushing her body up onto the palms of her hands, closing the gap between them.  
“You’re a very attractive lady Miss,” he said bluntly, a danced smirk in the corner of his dry lips.

“And you’re very sweet Mister Mikey, tell me do you live nearby?” she asked plucking a freshly laundered short from the hanger to the side, it was likely one of Ray’s fine Italian ones, but that made the idea of giving it to a street thug all the more satisfying.

“I live in a warehouse near Harlem.”  
“How exciting,” she breathed through a faked smile.  
“Perhaps I could show you it,” he leaned in, before Felicity placed the replacement shirt in his hands.  
“And what would Mister Palmer make of that?” she asked coyly, slipping around from underneath him.  
“He doesn’t have to know, we ain’t good friends,” he responded slipping his arms into the shirt that was a size of two too large.  
“Well then Mister Mikey, I’m sure we will see each other again,” she nodded softly before walking from the room – she had enough information, John could turn up the rest.

* * *

  
“It’s him,” she spoke, returning to Macie and John in the mid-afternoon sun.  
“So he knows Ray?” John asked, handing her another drink which she thankfully accepted.  
“He said he was a business associate,” she replied.  
“You think Ray could be the one stealing the shipments?” Macie asked, fanning herself with a bone and lace fan.  
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Felicity nodded, sipping the chilled drink.  
“So what’s he doing with the liquor?” Macie wondered.

“Distributing to smaller guys, less easy to trace back to him that way,” John replied with a knowing nod.  
“Mikey said he lives in a Warehouse near Harlem, John when he leaves here, follow him and see what you can find out."

It was a stretch that Mikey would lead them where they needed to go, even more of a stretch to think that there would be something to tie Ray to it, but it was worth a try, after all the streets had eyes – all John needed to do was point them in a certain direction.

* * *

It was just before sunset when Macie was strolling the tree-lined street, her heeled feet tapping lightly on the concrete footpath, kicking up orange toned leaves as she went.

She stopped ahead of the stoop of her apartment building, her eyes drawing up over the two strangers that stood there, chatting in hushed voices to each other, something decidedly un-New York-like about them.

“Well now, what did I do right to find two strapping men on my doorstep?” she asked, placing the brown paper bag at the foot of the stairs as she rummaged through her back for her keys.

“You must be Macie?” the slighter taller of the two asked as he ran a nervous hand through his hair  
“Well that depends on who’s doing the asking, although I can think of a lot more questions I’d rather give you the answer to,” she winked, pulling her keys from her bag as she bent down to collect her groceries.

“Allow me,” the shorter one with the sheepish eyes remarked as he collected the bag, propping it up under one arm.

“Sorry Miss, I don’t mean to alarm you showing up like this,” the taller spoke, rubbing a palm down his brown pleated trousers before extending it to her.

“My name is Oliver Queen, this here is Tommy Merlyn, we’re…”  
Macie’s face lit up as she took his hand and shook it.  
“I know exactly who you are Mister Queen, but it’s best you boys come inside, the streets can have eyes around here.”


	22. A Necklace of Pearls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know the innuendo of this title....

Felicity toed off the black beaded shoes, gently scooting them with her foot towards the closet, her feet warming under the feel of the decadent rug in her dimly lit room. She hadn’t closed the door and a soft tap on it opened it with a creak.

“Miss, would you like me to run you a bath?” Bethany asked, her voice timid and fragile.  
“That would be lovely thank you,” Felicity replied, settling into the stool at her vanity, slowly sliding out the pins that held her hair pulled back into an elegant swirl of curls.

She heard the taps spring to life and the sweet scent of vanilla rolling out through the bathroom door.  
“How was the theatre Miss?” Bethany asked, lulling back in the shadows of the room.  
“Dull if I’m honest," Felicity replied, turning in the stool, “Are you okay?” she asked, noting the hint of sadness that carried in Bethany’s tone.

“I am Miss, I just, I hope this doesn’t upset you none, but I kept this,” she walked forward pulling a note from the pocket of her apron and holding it out to Felicity.  
“What is this?” Felicity asked, taking is slowly from Bethany’s hands.  
“The note from your parents Miss, I know you wanted it thrown, but I thought maybe you might change your mind about wanting to read it. I’m sorry if I’m wrong,” she replied, stepping backwards her head hung low.

“Did anyone see you take this?” Felicity asked, running a painted nail along the seam of the envelope.  
“Not a one Miss, I took it from the garbage.”  
Felicity stood and walked the two small steps towards Bethany, the slinked train on her black gown floating across the ground as she walked.

Bethany blinked her eyes up as Felicity wrapped her slender arms around the small girl and placed an affectionate kiss against her brown hair.  
“Thank you,” she whispered in a breath, “you mustn’t tell anyone that you brought this to me though, do you understand?”  
“Yes Miss, I won’t speak of it to no one.”  
“Thank you” Felicity repeated “I owe you a great deal.”  
“Not really Miss, you’ve already taught me so much,” Bethany bowed as she stepped backwards, eager to check on the filling bath.

The two exchanged thoughtful smiles as Felicity settled back down into the chair and read her letter.

_19 May 1924_

_My dearest daughter,_

_I hope you are well, it pains me that I have not heard from you. Please write us soon. Your father and I miss you terribly._

_I cannot write much as I wish this to reach you as soon as it can so it must be on its way to you soon. I do not know of your life there, with your Aunt setting her sights on England I fear I do not know that you are well._

_I have written Mrs Palmer and she tells me by telegram that you are well, but she is a frightfully unobservant woman so I fear she wouldn’t know if you are or not._

_Your father has taken ill, the doctors are worried for him as am I. He is of weak spirit and coughs a lot. Please Felicity a note from you would brighten him right up I am sure._

_We miss you terribly and I worry for you every day. Even Oliver says he hasn’t heard from you._

_Please let me know that you are well._

_Love_  
_~Your Mother_

Felicity bit back the tears, each word of her mother’s letter holding the sadness she knew she must be feeling. Felicity tried to remind herself that it was for the best, that the distance she was creating would protect them, but it did little to subside the overwhelming pain welling up inside her.

It was sudden and it was terrifying – the awareness that she was alone out here, alone in a house with a man who held more power than she cared to admit. She watched her hands begin to tremble as her breath became caught in the back of her throat. She thought about the sudden shock and pain that had coursed through her body when his hand had crashed against the side of her face.

She was trying desperately to hold on, to fight but the sudden emptiness of her world seemed like an overhanging darkness. She needed her family, she needed Oliver.

“Miss?”  
The soft voice beside her startled her back to the present.  
Felicity swiped back the tears and forced a smile “Yes?”  
“Is it bad news?”  
“My father has taken ill. But he’ll be alright I’m sure.”  
“I know how that feels Miss and I’m terribly sorry about it.”  
“Thank you, and I’m sorry, I haven’t asked how your father is in some days.”  
“He’s the same Miss, the doctor says that there might be a way to get his speech back somewhat.”  
“Well that’s wonderful news.”  
“Not so much, we ain’t got the money for that, Mam tried to get a loan, but no one will have it, says she don’t earn enough even if they would trust a lady. It ain’t right, but there’s not a thing we can do ‘bout it.”

Felicity placed the note under the lining of her top jewellery drawer before turning back to Bethany.  
“Do you know how much this treatment will cost?”  
“I don’t Miss, but I reckon it’s more than we’ll ever scrape together.”  
Felicity danced her fingers along the opulent necklaces, bracelets and rings that filled the drawer, stopping on a decidedly garish broach that she had never worn, but was certain of its worth.

“Here, take this,” she held open Bethany’s palm and pressed the broach into it, “make sure your mother gets no less than what it’s worth,” she continued, scribbling a small note on a scrap of paper.  
“Give her this note so she’s know it comes with my blessing.”  
“I can’t,” Bethany stammered, “this is too much.”  
“Nonsense, none of these things matter in life, if they can be used to help someone who needs it, better that than hanging off my clothes like an ornament.”

“How can I ever make good for this?”  
“All I ask is that when you have a chance to do right by someone that you take it. It won’t always be the easiest way and it won’t always be a way that best suits you.”  
“Then how will you know it’s the right thing to do?”  
“You just will,” Felicity sighed with a smile.

“Go straight home with that, keep it out of sight till you get there, okay?”  
“Yes Miss, thank you.”  
“You’re welcome Bethany. I hope it sees your father improve.”

Felicity watched as the small girl almost run from the room. She padded slowly over to the door and closed it gently, locking it with the key as she had done every night since arriving.

The sweet aroma of vanilla once again coursed through her senses as the steam from the filled bath carried it throughout the bedroom. She sighed heavily, pushing out her breath with curled lips, her eyes lulling closed. She wanted to dream of Oliver tonight. She needed to see him. A soft breeze blew through the patio door that had been left open as Felicity often requested of the house staff.

The sweet crisp air whipped up the chiffon curtain, waving it softly with a billowing roll. The delicate breeze always reminded her of home, but as the temperature began to drop she knew she would soon have to forgo that blissful reminder and begin to close the doors earlier.

She tousled her delicate fingers through her hair, now free of pins it cascaded down her back in ringlet curls, just touching the hem of the scooped gown that gaped down her bare back. The pearls Ray had insisted she wore spilled beautifully down her back, knotted between her shoulder blades and looping just below the curve of her lower back.

With her back to the soft breeze wistfully pushing into the room she danced a finger under the heavily beaded capped sleeve of her black and silver dress. Tucking her fingers underneath it she slipped it softly down her shoulder, her breath hitching at the sudden cool breeze that pushed over her exposed shoulder.

Her eyes lulled closed, the black of her lashes set stark against her porcelain skin. The wind lapped at her back, like a soft kiss pressed against her velvet skin, moving her hair with the lightest of touches like a hand.

She melted into the sensation, dropping her head to one shoulder, breathing heavily as she imagined the gentle breeze like a whisper in her ear.

“Don’t scream, it’s Oliver,” the wind whispered.  
She smiled at the way her mind imagined his voice, low and soft, warm and slick against her neck. She felt the breeze move slowly under her chin, scraping lightly against her skin, sending up goose bumps in its wake. _Only…_

Her eyes opened to see a hand under her chin, a finger lightly pressed against her pouted lips. Her eyes followed the arm, turning her head as is weaved its way behind her.

“Don’t scream, it’s Oliver.”  
She saw his eyes first, reflected in the dim light of the tall lamp beside them.  
_Was she imagining this very moment?_  
_Had she fallen asleep dreaming of him?_  
_Would she wake up too soon?_

“Oliver?” she whispered, her lips trembling over his name, fearful that speaking it would make the mirage disappear.  
“It’s me baby,” he replied, his thumb gently stroking her cheek, pushing away a tear she didn’t know she had shed.

“Is it really you, or am I dreaming?” she breathed, her eyes welling with the sight of him.  
“I hope it’s not a dream because that means it would be a dream for me too,” his other hand smoothed around her waist and nestled into the small of her back.

“What are you doing here?”  
“I couldn’t stay away, I needed to see you, I needed to know you were okay.”

She stepped back, the sudden realisation that Oliver was in New York, in this house, like a stabbing pain to the heart – _If Ray found him here…._  
“You have to go, he can’t know you’re in New York,” she pleaded, her hands squeezing his wrists.  
“It’s alright Felicity, no one but Tommy and your friend Macie know I’m here, John will find out from Tommy, but I’ll keep low. It’ll be okay,” he smiled, pushing his forehead against hers.

Unwilling to argue with him and desperately thankful that he was there, Felicity fell into his arms, her head resting peacefully against his chest, the familiar dulcet tones of his heartbeat bringing her instant calm.

“My father, how is he?” she asked quietly, her words pushed against his chest.  
“He’s sick Felicity, worse I’ve ever seen him.”  
“He’ll be okay,” she chanted softly, “He’ll be okay.”  
“I hope you’re right.”  
“He has to be,” she sighed, her eyes blinking up at Oliver.

Oliver leant his head down and kissed the top of her head lovingly, lingering the kiss to breathe in the sweet scent of her.  
“What you said to that young girl was beautiful,” he whispered into her tumbled hair.  
“You heard that?”  
“I’ve been waiting for some time for you to get home, hiding in the heavy curtain,” he smiled.  
“I meant what I told her, just as I meant it when I said it to you. I don’t care about any of these fine things in life, I can’t take them with me when I die. But knowing I loved someone and was given that love in return, that’s how you measure real happiness, that’s how you know you lived,” she replied, dancing each syllable over his lips.

“You’re about as best as they come Felicity Smoak,” he smiled, swaying her gently in his arms.  
“I take my lead from you,” she smiled, pressing her lips softly to his.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked, his bottom lip snagged between her teeth, her eyes begging for an answer.  
“I stay till before first light, as long as I can,” he smiled, rolling his hands gently down her face, his fingers combing through her curls.

“I’ve missed you Oliver,” she whispered, taking a step back, his fingertips falling to her waist.

Felicity eased her hand under the other beaded capped sleeve, shrugging it down her arm to match the other side. She shifted her body slightly, the weight of the dress gliding it easily down the tops of her arms. She sifted again, the action causing the weighted dress to slink down her body without reservation till it lay discarded around her feet.

Oliver eyes danced across her shoulders and collarbone before falling to her naked breasts. He scooped her body into his arms, devouring her lips hungrily with his own famished ones. He had imagined kissing her slowly, tenderly taking his time with her, laying her down and lavishing gentle kisses against the skin he remembered so well – but all of that had been abandoned the instant he saw her standing in front of him, wearing only a wisp of black chiffon and lace panties with a necklace of pearl skimming down her back.

His lips caressed hers, pushing the kiss deeper as his hand steadied her at the small of her back, his other fingers weaving over the pearls, idly twisting them through his fingers.

They stumbled back together towards her canopy bed. She fell first onto the soft white quilt Oliver stopping his fall with his hands either side over her, hovering his body above hers, drinking in the sight of her as her breath pushed her chest up, before slowly letting it drop.

She sat herself up slightly, her fingers running over the hem of a cotton shirt that she could tell he had worn to blend in with the New York surroundings. She tugged it upwards, her eyes begging for him to remove the cloth that stood in the way of her hands pressing to his chest.

He tore it up from his body, his haste echoing that caught in her eyes. His lips searched for her, desperately peppering her collarbone with heated, wet kisses sucking against her skin and flicking his tongue lightly over it as he hummed his desire.

His hands ran smooth tracks up and down her thighs, his mouth growling at the sensation of her velvet skin against his palms. His fingers touched over her heated lips, feeling her wetness through the almost sheer fabric. He eased his finger between her folds, lapping up with his mouth a gasp that came as her response.

Taking her bottom lip between his, his tongue licked the seam of her mouth before she opened for him, heavy breaths against his lips as his tongue moved slowly around her mouth.

His thumb rubbed her gently through the fabric of her panties, rasping the gentle friction of it against her clit. He caught every moan that passed from her mouth, drinking them up like they were everything. His hands became hot, desperate to touch her body more, with no barrier between them.

Oliver’s lips broke free from hers as his hands slid the panties from her legs. He could smell her sweet aroma growing wetter as his mouth pressed hot kisses up the inside of her leg. Felicity’s fingers ran tightly into his hair, her nails scratching into his scalp, deeper as he moved closer to her apex.

His hands scouted ahead, moving across the silken smoothness of her stomach, skating the underside of her breasts and lightly fingering the pearls that lay between them.

“What about this?” he hummed into her thigh, his fingers lightly tugging on the necklace.  
“Leave it on,” she breathed, an eyebrow raised coyly.

Ray had told her to wear it.  
A smile grew across her lips – she would wear it.

His hand coursed back down her leg, lifting it gently as he knelt beside the bed. He folded her leg over his shoulder before raising himself up, spreading her open as his mouth finally reached the brimming warmth of her sex.

He nuzzled his mouth in deep between her folds, his tongue lightly licking up the seam. He felt her body trembling underneath his weight as her fingers grew tighter in the long strands at the front of his hair.

“Oliver,” she whispered, her voice a soft pant.  
His tongue lapped against her clit in response, tasting the warm juices as they bled from her body. He sucked in against her nub, pulling it gently between his lips as his tongue rolled over the tip of it.

Felicity let one of her hands drop from Oliver’s scalp, digging her nails into the soft white quilt as her body rose off the bed, her hips gyrating against the attention he was lavishing on her. She bit down on her bottom lip to stay off the screams that were desperate to break from her mouth. In a flushed moment of passion she wanted everyone to hear her cries of pleasure. She wanted it to echo across the walls, she wanted them to find her like this with Oliver’s mouth buried deep within her folds, tasting her, taking her. She wanted to smile as they recoiled in shock – but she knew that was not for now.

Her palm tapped against the blanket, patting out a rhythm than matched Oliver’s tongue swooping between her folds, dancing the rim of her entrance. Her lips pushed together silently begging to feel him inside her as his name floated atop long quiet breaths.

She felt the warmth of his tongue glide inside her, pushing its way around her as her walls caved in around him. Oliver took his time, his tongue sinking into her warmth, relishing the way her body contorted around him and how she responded to every light movement he made. His palm gently rested on her mound stilling the writhing of her hips to a slowed pace as his thumb swept over her clit, teasing it with soft rounded motions.

His other rolled over the thigh that sat atop his shoulder, trickling fast strokes down the top of it. Drowning in the taste of her he buried his tongue inside her as deep as he could go, his lips folding in around her swelling entrance as her felt the tiny tremors her body made under his hand. He heard her begging him softly for release, her youthful face flushed pink with tiny beads of sweat across her brow.

His tongue eased out of her, kissing a fevered path up to her navel as he rose up higher onto his knees, stretching her leg higher into the air causing a low impassioned growl to form on her lips as the movement spurred a ricochet down to her sensitive heat.

Oliver’s hand had mounted to her hip, lightly pushing her deeper into the mattress, as his other hand slid down her leg and skated across her stomach, lightly twisting his fingers across her pebbled nipple before folding through the knotted necklace that now drew a line down her chest.

She raised her head from the mattress, her lips pouted and glossed with her own heated breath. Her eyes searched him as her hands touched against his face, eager to ensure this was no dream she would wake bitterly up from.

“Felicity, I want you to let go. I want my mouth around you when you do,” he whispered, gently tugging on the pearls that glistered against her skin.  
She nodded quickly, watching him with wide eyes as he gently eased his hand off her hip, placing it solidly into the mattress. Her fingers reached for his hand, looping through two of them.

Oliver raised up higher on his knees till his thighs were straight against the wall of the bed. Her leg rose as her back curved inward, rolling her lower body a few inches off the quilt. Her eyes could watch him now as he pressed warm kisses against her folds, blowing a soft breath against her shaking bundle. Her fingers gripped his as he pushed his tongue deep inside her, sliding against her slick dew.

His free hand wrapped around her upper thigh, squeezing it tight against his rough cheek as his hand rubbed fervently between her folds, swirling deep rolls over her clit. He watched her closely, he watched the way her lips parted over silent words and the way her neck elongated each time he licked the thick base of his tongue around her sweltering entrance.

He felt her body clamp around him and her leg shaking against his shoulder as her chest bowed and shuddered sending the necklace toppling to the side, rolling under the curve of her breast.

Felicity felt the wave tighten across her navel like a band pulled to snapping point. Her breath hitched, all words lost from her until finally she fell over the edge, the crashing force of it spilling out from inside her. Her body shook as her eyes fell closed, her ears hummed gently as she rode out each aftershock.

Oliver took it all in, his lips saturated in her, his tongue working through her release, extending it with slow drawn swipes of his tongue. She tasted like the only meal he ever wanted.

His fingers caught the necklace, pulling it gently to bring her body up from the bed. He captured her lips in his own, spreading her sweet, warm release across her mouth. Her fingers feathered through her hair as her leg fell from his shoulder.

She pulled herself closer to him, spreading her heat across his chest as she twisted her legs at the ankles tight under his ass. Her tongue drew paths across the seam of his lips, tasting herself without restraint until they pulled apart, breathless and satisfied.

Felicity buried her head into the crook of his neck, placing soft kisses where she could reach.  
“Oliver?” she whispered.  
“Mmmhm,” he hummed, breathing in the soft scent of her skin along her collarbone.  
“I love you.”  
“I love you too,” he smiled as his fingers rolled over the necklace “will you tell me why you wanted this left on?”  
“One day,” she smiled, lifting her head to press it against his forehead, a smile bright across her lips.

“Come, take a bath with me,” she grinned, as she slipped her naked body from around him.  
She pulled him up from the floor, her fingers scampering to the fly of his pants, popping the buttons with ease and sliding them off his hips.

Oliver kicked the discarded pants off one foot when she pulled him towards the bathroom, twisting his other foot, still confined in the pants, and sending him stumbling to the floor.

Felicity folded her lips into each other, desperate to stifle the laugh as Oliver kicked his foot free from the pants.

“Don’t be pulling me none,” he laughed under his breath, “we’ll wake the whole house.”  
Felicity smiled as she pulled him into an embrace, her naked body pressed against his, her arms wrapped around his neck, bending him forward.  
“Let them see this,” she smirked, sliding her hands down either side of his cotton briefs.

With a coy smile and a glint in her eyes, she pushed them down his legs, releasing his pulsing cock, already ripe from moments before. Oliver moved the briefs the rest of the way down his legs, kicking them free completely before she tugged him again towards the bathroom.

She pulled him into the pastel and white bathroom, each fitting a shiny gold one, twinkling in the flowered light fixtures.  
“This is a fancy bathroom,” he breathed, looking around the room as she led him towards the claw foot bathtub.

Felicity scooped up the vanilla scented bubbles and drew a line down Oliver’s chest.  
“Have you ever had a bubble bath Oliver?” she smiled, watching the bubbles slowly slid down his smooth chest.  
“No Miss,” he grinned, licking his lips to taste the remnants of her.

“Well now, you’re in for something special,” she winked as she gestured for him to step into the now just-warmed water.

He slid into the water, letting the silky bubbles encase his body, his back resting against the sloped end of the tub, his knee tucking in against the side faucet. He watched Felicity as she padded, unabashed, naked around the room, folding a second towel over the nearby rail before placing a white painted wooden stool at the foot of the bath.

She sat down on the stool which sat level with the lower end of the bathtub. Slowly she slipped her legs into the bath, her breasts slowly rising and falling with each drawn breath she took.  
“Come here Oliver,” she whispered, dipping a soft washcloth into the water before wringing out the excess.

Oliver scooted closer, the water moving in a wave as he floated through it.  
“Turn around, I want to wash you,” she smiled.

Silently he obliged, turning his back to her, his temple resting on the side of her knee. Slowly she dipped the washcloth into the water, drawing a cascade of water up with it. The water ran paths down his back as she swept the cloth across his shoulder, leaning her body in towards him.

“Why did you come?” Felicity asked, slowly moving the wet cloth across his shoulders  
“I just kept thinking about you here, feeling like I shouldn’t have let you go, like I should have fought you harder on it.”  
“It wouldn’t have made a difference Oliver, my decision would have been the same.”  
“I know,” he kissed the words into the damp, glossy skin of her knee.  
“The train ride is nearly five days,” she smiled as she wrung the cloth down the back of his neck.  
“I know, I thought ‘bout you every hour of each of those days. Just hoping that when I got here, you’d be okay,” his fingers ran smooth paths down her leg, dipping into the water around her calf.

“I’m okay now,” she smiled, littering a line of kisses across his temple, “how long will you stay?”  
Her breath was warm across his damp skin as she worked the washcloth down his chest, enjoying the way her hand glided over the muscles and ridges there

“I can only stay a few days, you Pap will need me back soon, it’s a busy time.”  
“Has he agreed to your proposal about the horses?”  
Oliver twisted, the water rocking up the sides as he rested his chin on her thigh, his eyes staring up at her, a pained expression running through them.  
“I can’t make him see sense Felicity, he says he’s too old to be changing, that Verdant is fine the way it is, no need to be progressive none, that he’ll leave that to the younger folk. You need to speak to him, make him understand what’s going on here,” Oliver pleaded.

Felicity closed her eyes softly, a saddened sigh pushing from her lips.  
“I can’t,” she whispered, “if I go back, the distance I’m trying to make Ray believe is true, will be for nought. You know I can’t do that.”  
“Felicity, I don’t know any other way.”  
“If he’s laid up sick this season, maybe he’ll see how hard the farm is to run, he’ll see sense then.”  
“And if he doesn’t.”  
“I have to believe that he will.”  
“Felicity-“  
She shook her head slowly. She needed to believe – it was all she had left.

Oliver sighed, kissing her leg softly. That argument could wait for another day.  
“Where’s Tommy?” Felicity asked, changing the subject as she ran the cloth across his shoulder  
“I left him with Macie, that girl is a character,” Oliver smiled, twisting his head back around.  
“She’s a riot,” Felicity replied fondly.  
“She kept saying I ought take you downtown, when I asked her where downtown, she said I’ve already been there.”

Felicity laughed between folded lips as she dropped her forehead against his neck.  
“I don’t get the joke, but I’ll take you wherever you want to go,” he quipped.  
“You already did once tonight,” she whispered close to his ear.  
Oliver’s brow furrowed as he thought about her words, moments later she felt a low chuckle move through his body.  
“She means…?” he winked, looking down between her legs.  
Felicity nodded with a grin.  
“Well that, I will definitely do again, a lot.”

His body felt weightless in the water as he touched her leg, basking in the softness of it under his own calloused touch.  
“Time to swap places,” she smiled, kissing the instruction into the base of his neck.

He rose up from the tub, his strong hands rested either side of it. Pulling the towel from the rack beside her he patted himself dry before wrapping the towel around his waist, securing it at the front in a folded over knot.

Felicity slipped in to the bathtub, running the washcloth slowly up and down her arms as Oliver watched her, taking his seat where she had sat before. He skirted the towel up his legs and he plunged his feet into the water and gestured for her to come closer and relinquish the washcloth.

Felicity shook her head softly, “I have something else in mind.”  
She knelt with the water lapping across the base of her spine, her body sandwiched between his legs. He watched her breasts glimmer with a fresh coat of water dripping down them as she dropped the washcloth into the water, sending tiny droplets splashing up his legs.

Her fingers folded over the knot in his towel, loosening it till the towel dropped open either side.  
“You’re all clean now and you haven’t been riding horses all day” she smiled, blinking her brightly flecked eyes up at him as she ran her nails backwards up his thighs

Her small hand gripped his half erect member, gently letting each of her fingers mould around it. Her other hand lay at the axis of his thigh, her thumb caught in the crease there.  
“Felicity you don’t need-“ he started to speak as her hand gently pumped his cock.  
“I want to,” she pouted before lightly drawing her tongue up the inside of his leg.  
“I want you to be my first everything Oliver,” she blew the words into the tip of his cock causing his back to arch in response.  
“My first _and_ my only,” she kissed him briefly on the tip, the skin still a little loose as her hand continued to pump him slowly.

“Will you tell me how you like it, what you want me to do?” she asked between feathered kisses along his thigh.  
“Mmmmhmm,” he groaned, his body downing in the sensations sweeping over him.

She built her rhythm, pumping him faster now, her thumb rolling tightly over the head as his cock grew in her hands, the tip now pushing in against her supple breasts.  
“Is that nice?” she asked softly, watching as his head lulled backwards, exposing the heated pulse point on his neck to her hungry kisses. She nipped at him lightly, his erection now beating into her navel, her hand quickening the pace.

“Yes.”  
She thought she heard him breath, his hands gripping the side of the stool.

Felicity kissed a trail back down his chest, sinking her lower body back into the tepid water as she reached the brush of his base.

Slowly she hopped warm kisses down his shaft, sliding her hand underneath it to mirror the sensation with her finger. His cock twitched in her hands as her lips reached his tip, her tongue flicking over the pulsing ridgeline. She dipped her tongue into the tip tasting the glistening ball of pre-cum already pooling there.

Her nail gently scraped along the underside, lifting his hard shaft upwards to her waiting lips. She watched his eyes slam open as her lips encased him.

Oliver moaned instinctively as every sensitive point on the head of his cock was suddenly surrounded by her warm, wet mouth. He watched as she leaned her body in closer, one hand still balanced on his thigh while the other travelled down to the base of his cock, gently coaxing him deeper inside her mouth. She gently pumped the base as she pulled back, sliding her teeth over his cock sending a spark flickering up his body.

His hand released the grip on the stool, folding gently around her head, combing his fingers into her wet hair. The feel of her head bobbing up and down under his palm was enough to make him orgasm in itself, let alone the way her tongue was swiping paths over his tip and the absolute euphoric feeling of her warm, dewy mouth around him.

She moved faster now, tugging longs strokes over his shaft with her mouth while pumping quick short beats against the base, her fingers brushing against his swelling balls bringing him right to the edge.  
“Felicity, I’m,” he panted, searching for words his mind forgot, “I’m there, almost.”  
He went to ease himself out of her, not wanting to explode within her sweet mouth, but she pulled her head back, nodding as she kept the pace.

Felicity wanted to have every part of him – every experience with him.

Oliver couldn’t argue even if he wanted to as he lost the ability to speak somewhere between her mouth and her hand. He felt the familiar tightening across his length and the sudden flush of heat pulsing from his core.

His release came stronger than he’d ever known it to have come before, he watched with blown eyes as her mouth froze around his shaft, her eyes blinking quickly before she eased him deeper, slowly her movements, milking him with each passing second.

Felicity felt the silken salty release sliding down the back of her throat, his shaft twitching inside her as she swiped her tongue over him, savouring the taste of the remnants smattered over his tip.

Slowly she eased off him, her hand still tightly gripped at his base.  
“Did I do okay?” she asked, her lips dewy with him.  
He watched her with hungry eyes as she wiped her finger across the corner of her mouth, scooping up a trail of his release. Slowly she drew a path that mirrored the necklace she wore, spreading him over her skin, she was his, for always, forever.

The hand laced through her hair pulled her towards him, swallowing her lips with his, doing the same as she had done before – tasting himself on her pouted rosy lips.

Her knees slid against the bottom of the bathtub, sending her slipping backwards. Her hands reached for something stable, but clung to him instead, pulling him off balance.

She fell backwards into the water, sending a wall of water up either side of the tub and spilling over onto the tiles underneath. He fell in after her, his lips still snatched up in hers as his naked body fell against hers.

Soft laughter broke between their lips as they moved across each other. His hands slid up her side, pulling her up the slope of the bath where he held her there as he nestled himself between her legs.

“You’re about the best thing in my life,” Oliver whispered, ghosting the words over her lips as his hand combed through her wet hair glued to her face.  
“You’re my always, ain’t no doubt about it,” he smiled, pulling his lips back to study her face, tiny droplets of splashed water coursing down it.  
“And you’re my forever, there isn’t a doubt about it,” she smiled, kissing the tip of his nose.

* * *

 

**5 July 1924**

For three nights after that breezy June night Oliver came to Felicity, spending wistful hours together, savouring each minute they shared together hidden behind chiffon curtains and locked doors, dancing touches across each other in dim lights and between hushed words.

As if by some touch of fate he was never seen and they were never found. Felicity thought it a miracle no one commented on the flush of pink across her cheeks that she brought to the breakfast table each one of those mornings. It was with a heavy heart that she kissed him goodbye the last morning. Just before the sun rose above the horizon he promised to return as soon as he could. She had begged him to take unworn rings to pawn for a ticket to return to her, he had bowed his head and with a heavy sigh he had accepted that he couldn’t afford it alone.

He had touched her gently their last night, his hand atop hers, gently guiding her across the tips of her own pleasure, moving slowly between her folds, teaching her how he would touch her so that in his absence she could follow the same path, imagining it was his hand that eased inside her and that it was his thumb that lightly flicked over her brimming nub. Even after all this time the feel of his fingers against her skin had not faded in her mind.

John had found the warehouse, but there was not a stitch of liquor anyway in it, only smashed glass and the distinct smell of it gave away it’s secret. There was to be another border crossing in three days. There was the expectant hope that Mikey and his crew, funded by money and intel from Ray, would hit it, ferrying it to the warehouse where John could tip off those vying for Ray’s position. If he was behind the stolen shipments, this would be the time to catch him. Facing down the Outfit, John was positive Mikey would roll over on Ray.

“Three days,” Felicity whispered under her breath, hidden behind the apple she sliced for lunch.  
She couldn’t help but place hope on that third day, desperate to imagine herself running, barefoot for all she cared, to the station to catch a train home. Her train home to her parents. Her train home to Oliver.  
_Three days._

“Miss?” Bethany interjected Felicity’s daydream.  
“Yes, what is it?” Felicity asked kindly, a finger tumbling through her hair.  
“This telegram came for you,” Bethany replied holding the folded note out to Felicity.

“Who is it from?” Felicity asked, as she caught Ray sauntering into the sunlit conservatory.  
“Your mother Miss.”  
“I have no interest in reading it,” Felicity replied, her lips pursed over the lie.  
“Miss they asked that you read it,” Bethany urged, pushing the note closer, “said it was important.”

Felicity searched Bethany’s eyes, noting the worry coursing through them. Reluctantly she took the telegram from her hands and slowly unfolded it.

 _Felicity,_  
_Your father is gravely ill, he’s taken with tuberculosis. The doctors says he won’t see the month out._

_Please come home my precious daughter, please grant him a farewell._

_~Your mother_

Felicity felt her breath still and her whole body tremble, moments before she felt her knees buckle, her hand clutched on the arm of the chair.

Her father was dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought the Fandom needed some glorious smut. Hope it helps.


	23. A Promise Made

_She needed to go home._  
The air around her felt heavy, her lungs struggled to gasp at the thick inhale.  
“I have to leave,” she breathed, the weight of her entire body resting on the arm of the wicker chair.  
“Shall I see to packing your things?” Bethany asked, a small hand resting gently atop Felicity’s trembling one.  
“No, no I can see to that,” Felicity replied, her voice shaking softly over each word.

“You need not come, I will stay only as long as needed,” Felicity said, turning to Ray as she swallowed back tears.  
She watched him as he sauntered around the room, idly adjusting the pocket watch attached to the tweed waistcoat he wore, despite the sunny temperature.

“I will accompany you, it would be improper for you to take such a journey without your fiancé after all,” he spoke calmly, but there was a noted hesitation in his voice.

Felicity wondered whether he had been calculating the risk of leaving her alone against the risk leaving Mikey alone to see through the hijacking of the shipment in three days’ times. It was clear from his answer he had decided her leash was to be kept shorter than the one he likely kept Mikey on.

“Very well, I should like to leave as soon as we are able,” Felicity replied, choking back the tears forming behind her faded blue eyes.  
“I believe there is a train leaving midday tomorrow, I will see we are on it. Will you driver Mr Diggle be returning, perhaps he is needed at the Ranch given your father’s illness?”

Felicity caught the nuance in his voice, perhaps word was beginning to drift back to Ray about someone asking around about his comings and goings as they related to the Outfit.

“John is of no help at the Ranch, he has no experience with cattle and I’m sure my mother has already replaced him for the other jobs. I see no need for him to accompany me, I’m sure I will be quite _safe_ on the train. I do ask that Bethany comes with me to offer her assistance where needed.”

“Very well, three tickets it is then,” Ray nodded as he headed for the door, “I have some business to attend to, I will see you at dinner this evening.”  
Felicity forced a smile – knowing they were too close to allow her desire to slap Ray clear across his face to ruin the wheels already in motion.

The journey home would take five days. By the time they reached Starling City she would know what John had uncovered.

* * *

  
“Miss Felicity, I don’t think it’s wise you travel that distance with him alone,” John remarked in a hush tone as they talked beside the cream Kissel Speedster parked in the drive that John had been tasked with buffing.

Felicity dipped the black straw cloche hat she wore, hiding her face from any windows that overlooked where they stood, in case someone was watching them with trained eyes.

“John, I’ll be fine,” she swallowed down her own distrust of that sentiment, “but you need to stay here, you need to see if Mikey intercepts the border crossing and if he does you need to get him to roll on Ray. That’s the most important thing.”  
“I disagree, the most important thing is keeping you safe, spending five days on a train alone with that man ain’t keeping you safe,” John snipped as he casually ran the dry cloth across the bonnet of the car.

“I won’t be alone, Bethany will be with me,” Felicity replied, breathing a soft exhale to calm her own pounding heart, racked with emotion.  
“That young girl can’t see to keeping you safe anymore than a kitten would, and you know it,” he pointed the cloth at her, the clear agitation written in the lines on his face.

“John I know that this seems foolish, but I’m afraid if we miss this opportunity another one won’t come knocking before the Fall,” she sighed, knowing the choice could go either way, “I’m sure Ray won’t try anything untoward.”  
“Allowing me to speak freely Felicity, that’s bullshit, if you could see your face right now, you wouldn’t believe a word you speak neither.”

Felicity knew he was right, Bethany was a charming wee sprite of a thing, but there was little chance the young girl could stick up for herself let alone stand up to Ray, regardless of the issue. Felicity was confident she could handle herself, she was no wallflower, but to have someone equally as tough would give Felicity an ease.

“Macie, I’ll ask Macie to come, that girl is about as tough as they make them,” Felicity smiled, the idea of having a friend with her instantly lifting her spirits.

“You get her to go and I’ll be a damn sight happier about it,” John replied with a nod of his head.

* * *

  
**10 July 1924**

Felicity let the crisp evening air surround her shoulders as she stepped from the car. The sound of her delicate shoes crunching against the gravel of the drive was a stinging reminder of the one of the last sounds she had heard before leaving this place months ago.

The five days spent aboard the train had been uneventful, while Ray had been displeased with the sudden added guest, he had kept his distance for most of the trip, preferring to spend his time with his boorish travelling companion – a thick set bald fella who went by the name of Jerry and spoke in grunts more than words.

Felicity had spent most of the journey hoping that her father would fight to see her – that he would hold on till she arrived, till she could see to it that he got better. She never once imagined that he wouldn’t.

It was with heavy heart that her eyes fell against each of the sights around her, she had once memorized them thinking she would never be returning to this place.

She had been deliberately cruel to her mother in a way no parent deserved, the knowledge of this hung like a noose of guilt around Felicity’s neck as her fingers toyed with the pearls that mimicked that same feeling. Felicity was unsure how her mother would take to her being there after the indelible pain Felicity had set about lumbering on her, so it was with a hitched breath that she walked towards the house.

She froze at the bottom step, her eyes darting upwards as the front door crashed open, a wilted version of her mother now standing just a few feet ahead of her.

“My sweet girl,” Donna cried, rushing down the steps and falling into Felicity’s arms.  
“I’m so sorry,” Felicity whispered into the blonde strands of her mother’s hair that fell across her shoulders.

She knew Ray’s watchful eyes were trained you her, but Felicity could not continue this charade a moment longer, she would not cause her mother’s heart another moment of pain. Not here, not now.

“How is he?” Felicity asked, her palms cradling her mother’s paled face, barely a scrape of her usual polished makeup.  
“It’s fallen to his lungs now, they say there isn’t a thing to be done, he has pneumonia now, I think he’s only holding on till he could see you,” Donna heaved, each word lumbered with underlying pain.  
“There must be more they can do, he’s so strong,” Felicity replied, blinking back the threatening tears.

Felicity’s eyes walked up the steps as Oliver walked from around the door, his face solemn, his hat pressed in the palm of his hand.  
“I wish there was, but the last week he’s gotten so much worse,” Donna cried, pressing soft kisses against Felicity’s forehead.  
“Go to him, he’s been waiting for you,” Donna nodded, pulling back slowly from the embrace.

Silently Oliver walked down the steps, taking Donna’s hand, Felicity watched in surprise as her mother’s hand nestled into the crook of Oliver’s elbow and she walked with him back into the house. It seemed her mother’s heart had soften like Felicity had always hoped it would.

The house was quiet as Felicity walked through the door, as her eyes fell around the sitting room her heart lurched a little, almost expecting to see her father sitting up at his desk with nothing more than a simple cold, but that wasn’t to be. His chair sat empty.

Felicity’s eyes walked up the staircase that seemed so ominous to her now. Her mind jumped back to memories of the times her father would let her slide down the balustrade much to her mother’s dismay.

Or the time she sat on the top step refusing to go to school because Oliver had come down with chicken pox and he wouldn’t be at school for at least a week. It had only been when Noah had offered to walk her by Oliver’s window so she could wave him a good morning that she had been convinced to move from that top step.

It had been on those same steps that she had heard the plan to send her to New York, creating the domino effect that landed her here and now.

Her foot stayed poised on the lip of the first stair as her hand wrapped around the balustrade. She was home, but it was a return seeped in sadness.

* * *

 

Felicity opened the door, the deep blanketing of dark, stale air was thick and obtrusive as she pulled the mask tighter across her mouth.

Her eyes fell to the bed, but the figure lying, propped up with pillows was a stranger. The jarring wheezed cough made her tremble as she took another step into the room, closing the door softly behind her.

“Daddy?” she whispered, taking another hesitant step towards the bed.  
She was praying the voice would reply that she had ventured into the wrong room, the wrong house, that this skeletal figure lying beneath a thin blanket couldn’t be her father.

“Fe,” a cough broke his word before he could finish it.  
Felicity’s heart dropped as a river of tears fell from her eyes. She stumbled towards the bed, stopping when the thin rays of light peeking through the heavy curtains lit up more clearly the face of the man before her.

His skin was pale, deathly white and covered in what looked like a thin layer of grey paint. His eyes were sunken and heavy lidded, barely able to look up at her with any expression more than distress. Noah Smoak had never been a big man, but he had always carried himself with an impressive stature that was now all but gone. His body now reduced to thin arms that hung like weightless tree branches down the side of his frail outline.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry,” she wept, falling into the thick tweed armchair beside the bed, her hands grasped for him as her head fell trembling onto the bed beside him.  
“I shouldn’t have left you, I shouldn’t have you let think I had left off you completely. Daddy, I’m so sorry,” her lips cried over the words, hidden by the white fabric mask the nurses had insisted she wear.

“Felicity,” his voice came out shaking but clear enough.  
“You,” he paused, shifting his arm to lay his hand atop hers, “you have never done me anything but proud.”  
She blinked up at him, her cheeks stained with the black mascara that ran down from her tear soaked eyes.

“I left you,” she whispered, her eyes trying to trace the life she once saw in his – a sparkle that was almost completely snuffed out.  
“But I should never have let you go,”  
“Daddy you didn’t do anything-“  
His hand gripped hers, his face turning over in pain like he took every ounce of strength he had left and focused it into the hand that squeezed her tightly.

“Felicity,”  
He breathed it, the wheeze heavy in his chest.  
“You will not marry that man,” he spoke, his chest heavy with each word as his finger tapped the ring she wore.  
“There is nothing he can offer you that would be what you deserve.”

Felicity’s chin dropped to her chest, her free hand swiping away tears that fell without reservation.  
“You promise me,” he coughed, his throat scratched and dry.  
Felicity reached for the small glass of water that sat on the table beside the bed. With her arm gently around his neck she raised him up, bringing the small glass up to his parched lips.

“Daddy, please, don’t speak anymore, you’re hurting yourself,” she spoke softly her eyes gently smiling down at him.  
“I need to speak now, while I can,” he stuttered as Felicity moved the glass away, placing it gently down where it had been moments before.

“Promise me Felicity.”  
“Daddy I can’t.”  
“You, will,” he stopped, gathering his breath, “not marry Ray Palmer, promise,” another pause, “me.”

Felicity’s lips folded over each other, struggling to find the words to say, but as she looked at the clarity in his eyes, she knew there was only one thing she needed to say.  
“I promise.”  
As she spoke the words, it was as though a heavy weight was lifted from her chest. She would not be made a liar of.

“Take it off, the ring,” he rasped, tapping the ring once more.  
Felicity did as he asked, folding the ring into the pocket of her dress, her hands returned to clasp around his one trembling one.

The faintest of smiles drew across his face, his head slowly bobbing out a nod as his finger tightly flicked against the small cotton thread left on her finger. Her eyes struggled to tell him the story of it, but when she caught the smile cross his lips – she could tell he already knew.

“That one will treat you right, not like I have with your mother.”  
“You loved her the best you knew how daddy,” Felicity whispered, folding a hand through his thinned grey hair.  
“I made mistakes which I admit I haven’t been man enough to tell her, but I will.”  
“I know, she loves you the best way she knows how too.”  
“You deserve better. Oliver will give you better.”

“You’re the best of us all Felicity, don’t make our mistakes and don’t be moulded by them neither.”  
His breath became shallow, his head rolled back, dipping further into the pillow.  
“Stay with me daddy, you’re not going anywhere, I won’t let you, you hear?” she whispered, pulling the mask from her mouth, desperate to touch her lips gently to the back of his hand.  
“Don’t you leave me, don’t you go.”

His head rolled towards her, his breath pulling out words buried deep, struggling with each breath.  
“The Ranch, it’s yours, I’ve already signed the papers. Do what needs to be done Felicity. Love like you’re free to and be loved like you deserve to.”

“No Daddy, I’m not you, I can’t run this place,” she cried, her fingers lightly touching his hollowed cheeks.  
“You’re better than me, daughter. I know you’ll do just fine. Fix what I couldn’t.”

His body shook against the mattress, his voice scratching out a breath as he winced over the heaviness of his lungs.  
“Daddy, no,” Felicity cried, feeling his hand slowly getting limp in her own, “I’ll get the nurse, daddy stay with me.”

She went to stand, but he hand grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her close.  
“I wrote your mother a letter,” his voice grew quiet, Felicity hovering closer to hear his words, “I can’t bear to see the hurt in her face, give it to her when I’m gone.”

“No, you’ll be okay daddy, you have to be. I’m not ready to be without you.”  
“Tell her that I was sorry, with my last breath, I was sorry.”  
“No,” she shook her head, “you tell her, because you’ll be fine,” she cried  
“You tell her.”  
His head nodded, his voice barely above a whisper.  
She offered him a small nod and a pressed smile in return, she would promise him that as well.  
“Love Felicity. Love and be loved,” he breathed with what little breath he had left.

She closed her eyes as the words rolled over her ears, the softest of sounds carried out in his last few breaths.

She stood, her head poised just above his mouth, pleading between mumbled words and praying in her heart that she would hear his breath return – but, no prayer was answered that night.

The flicker of life left in him departed, holding his daughter’s hand, just the faintest of smiles pressed against his pale, dry lips.

* * *

  
It seemed like hours past as she stayed there, her hand desperate to hold his, waiting hopelessly for him to return to her, but he was gone. She rose slowly, gently placing his withered hand atop his chest.

“I love you daddy,” she whispered, taking the note from the table beside the bed and slipping it into her pocket.  
“I made you a promise I hope that I can keep,” she sighed, pushing the softest of exhales through her parted lips.

She walked slowly from the room, allowing her feet to guide the way to the stairs. She took a low and heavy inhale as she glanced back towards the room. Each step she took further away made her heart sink heavier, but she did siphon the smallest trace of comfort knowing that she had made it in time. She had made it back to hold his hand, to tell him all would be well and to see him smile over her one last time. If nothing else – that was a glimmer of comfort in an otherwise blackened day.

Felicity’s eyes fell around the faces that watched her as she entered the sitting room, the tears that ran tracks down her cheeks said everything they didn’t want to hear, but knew was coming.

“He’s gone isn’t he?” Donna wept, her body doubling over in the arm chair where she sat.  
Macie’s arms wrapped firmly around Donna’s trembling shoulders as Felicity slowly nodded, her own nails digging roughly into the skin of her arms.

Felicity wanted to speak, to offer her mother something, but all words had vanished from her and she felt numb to the sudden loss that drowned her. Her nails dug deeper, cracking the skin underneath without her even blinking an eye. She wanted to feel something – even if that was pain by her own hands.

There was nothing thought out and no consideration given to how it might look when Oliver crossed the room and pulled her small trembling frame into an embrace. She melted into the warmth of his arms, her face buried against his brawn as his arms fully encased her – holding her up when she threatened to fall.

The moment of absolute and pure love was not lost of a single pair of eyes in the room, but only one set saw it with hatred.

Donna moved from the chair, taking the few small steps before her hand could reach out and gently smooth down Felicity’s arm. Oliver stepped back allowing the mother and daughter to silently embrace, both able to understand the other’s pain.

“He asked me to give you this,” Felicity whispered through a trembled voice.  
She folded her lips over one another as she pulled the note from her pocket. With a soft exhale she looked down at it, blinking back tears before she gazed back up, meeting her mother’s pained eyes.

“Let this time settle, save it for another moment when you’re alone with your thoughts. Remember that he loved you,” Felicity breathed, one hand pressed against her mother’s cheek as the other folded the note into her awaiting hand.  
“He loved me the best way he could,” Donna replied, the softness of her voice barely above a whisper.

* * *

 

**Saturday, 12 July 1924**

“You still say you found nothing?” Ray hissed, his hand wrapped around the small girl’s arm.  
“I never found a thing Mister Palmer,” Bethany replied, her eyes hung low as the two stood hidden in the forest of trees behind the estate house.

“Did you search all her drawers, everywhere I told you?” his voice was right, growling low into her ear as she tried to hold back the tears, much like she has seen Felicity do.  
“I did Mister Palmer, the time that you’ve had me working for her I looked, she never received any letters from home.”

The truth was Felicity had received letters from Oliver and Bethany had found them, but despite the threats levelled at her she had kept that secret from Ray, choosing the path that was not the easy one – but it was the right one.

“Please can I go? Miss Felicity will be wondering where I got to, she asked me to help with the preparations for the wake, the funeral is this afternoon.”  
“You can go when I say you can go, but for right now, I have a job for you,” he smirked, violently jerking her small frame in his arms until she looked at him with tear soaked eyes and nodded.

Felicity wasn’t afraid of him, but Bethany was – and for now, that was enough.

It was time to see to it that the persistent thorn in his side, the one who challenged him at his mere existence – was taken out of the picture. He would not lose to a farm hand, he would not be bested by someone unfit to even wipe his shoes.

Oliver Queen had to go.

* * *

  
“Are you okay?” Oliver asked, sweeping Felicity’s tumbled hair back from her face.  
Felicity nodded quietly as she swept the stiff bristled brush down the back of her father’s chocolate brown stallion.

“You ain’t ever need to pretend for me Felicity, I love you in every emotion,” Oliver replied, gently raising the hoof of the stallion.

Before his death Noah had requested his ashes be set free along the rolling hills of the southern boundary of the property, where the lake he had been so fond of made its shore and where the wild flowers roamed across the land. It was the same spot his father before him had been laid to rest. Oliver was finishing preparing Noah’s horse for the journey they would take shortly when Felicity had come in looking for something her idle hands could be doing.

“Oliver, he gave me the Ranch,” she whispered, dancing fingers across the sleeves of her dark dress  
Oliver looked up, surprise caught in his eyes.  
“Mam knows, she says it had always been his plan and she never wanted to run the place. She just asked to stay on in the house.”

Oliver watched Felicity closely as her eyes hung low, her lips folding over each word as if she was caught in a daze, he wanted nothing more than to hold her and gently rock her but she had asked him to keep his distance for just a little longer.

She had not told him what her father had said, or what she had promised him – fearing that she was unsure when she could ever live up to that promise. They had not heard from John and fearing the worse, Felicity was afraid that Ray still possessed the card that held her in New York. There were still people he could take from her – the ones she loved the most.

“I trust you Oliver.”  
“I know.”  
She looked up at him, the blue of her eyes more clear than he had seen them in some time.  
“If you ask it of me, I will give the Ranch to you.”  
“This is your home Felicity, and one day it’ll will be ours.”  
“And if that day never comes?” she sighed, pushing out a heavy breath.  
“You have to believe that it will,” Oliver urged gently, seeing the light dimming in her eyes.  
“It’s been too long and I don’t have much more to believe in. We should have heard from John by now.”  
“We will, soon, I’m sure.”  
“Oliver if October comes and I marry Ray, this land becomes his. I won’t see that.”  
“It won’t happen.”  
“But if it does, everything you worked hard for would become his, I can’t see that happen, but if I ask you to stay in Starling, I steal a life from you. You should have children, you should find a woman who will love the very bones of you, and I can’t promise you that,” her lips quivered over the pain of such a thought.

“Stop,” he cooed, holding her head tightly between the palms of his hands, “you don’t need to think any of that, John will find something, you’ll see.”  
She wanted to refute him, but she equally just wanted – for once – to believe that just might be true.

“I think he has,” a voice piped up from behind the embraced lovers “this telegram just came, I ran it right over.”  
Tommy stepped quickly towards them, holding out the folded note. Wearily Felicity took it from his hands, unfolded it and prayed for something good.

 _We were right. Have everything I need. Singing like a caged bird. He even has letters, signed and sealed. Give me the word and he’s sunk._  
_-John._

Felicity stared at each word, her eyes hopping from one to the other as the paper shook in her trembling hand. Her lips pursed together as a wave of emotions crashed against her. The relief, the joy, the reality … it was all so much.

“Felicity? What does it say?” Oliver asked, his finger lightly smoothing across the path of tears on her cheek.  
“You,” she swallowed down tears, her breath pounding through her chest, “you were right, we” she choked back – _she was free._  
She couldn’t find the words so she pressed the note into Oliver’s hands as a smile blossomed over her painted lips.

Oliver read it quickly, the same wave of relief crashing into him as he looked up and his eyes met hers.  
“It’s done,” he smiled, embracing her with his strong arms, lifting her small frame into the air as he pressed quick and frantic kisses against her neck before he handed the slightly crumpled note to Tommy.

“You celebrating without me now?” Macie asked, breezing in through the doors.  
Tommy read the note and handed it back towards the vivacious blonde as she approached the group.  
“Holy shit,” Macie gasped, reading the note and finally saying what everyone had been thinking.

“All due respect to your dear old pa,” she smiled, drawing a cross over her chest “but this is about the best we could have hoped for, we can sink that bastard.”  
Felicity’s face twisted over the finality of that statement. If they ratted him out to the Outfit, he would barely make it off the train in New York before he got a knife in the back or a bullet to the side of his brain. Ray wouldn’t live past this.

Despite his every despicable action she didn’t want the burden of carrying his blood on her hands.  
“I don’t think we should,” Felicity spoke, as Oliver lowered her feet gently to the ground.  
“This is everything we rightly hoped for, you can stay here, home, with me,” Oliver replied, combing his hand through the stray pieces of her gently braided hair.

“I know,” she smiled, pressing her warm hand against his cheek, the soft scruff gently grazing against her palm, “and that brings me no end of joy, but if we tell John to hand over what he knows Ray is a dead man.”  
“Isn’t that a good thing, that bastard deserves it,” Macie piped up, pulling a cigarette from the pocket of her demure black dress.  
“Macie is right, I hardly think a man like him deserves any kind of stay,” Tommy quipped, pulling a silver plated lighter from his pocket and offering Macie a light.

“Not in here,” Oliver remarked, plucking both the cigarette and the lighter from their hands, “this place will be in flames in minutes if you ain’t careful,” he cautioned, nodding to the barrels of petrol temporarily stored in the stables, “and if this goes up, you best believe you’d be lucky to stop it before it reaches the houses.”

Macie smiled as she offered the very serious faced Oliver a salute.  
“But,” Oliver continued, turning back to Felicity as he tucked the lighter and the cigarette into his own pocket, “fire safety aside, they both have a point, Ray didn’t show you an inch of the mercy you’re thinking about returning.”

“I don’t doubt what y’all are saying, but I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want him in any part of my life and certainly not to feel guilt over him,” Felicity replied, her hand folding into Oliver’s, “none of us want that, he doesn’t deserve that.”

“So what do we do?” Tommy asked, his eyes blinking between Felicity and Oliver who were talking through unspoken expressions dancing across their faces.

“What are they doing and have they always done that?” Macie leaned in, whispering the question to Tommy.  
“You’ll see and yes,” Tommy replied in a mirrored whisper.

“She wants to tell Ray what we know, give him the chance to leave,” Oliver spoke, his eyes still locked on Felicity.  
“And he doesn’t think we should,” she replied, blinking briefly, “but he knows I’m right.”

“So you mean to tell him that we know he’s a crook and if he doesn’t hightail it back to New York and leave you happy here then he’s heading for a swim with the fishes?” Macie asked.

“Perhaps a little more eloquently but yes, I’ll tell him that I know and give him the chance to leave,” Felicity replied.  
“You ain’t going in there alone,” Oliver spoke firmly.  
“Oliver, you know it’s best he doesn’t know how many of us know, it’s better that way.”  
“And if he tries to hurt you?”  
“Then you’ll be right outside the door.”  
Oliver sighed heavily, he knew there was no talking her around this idea, but if he was honest that was one of the things he loved most about her.

* * *

  
It was nearing midday when Felicity found Ray thumbing through papers on Noah’s desk. She took a breath and closed the doors behind her back, clamping them closed with a bang that broke Ray’s concentration.  
“What are you doing?” she asked, taking three small steps into the room, her chin lifted, her eyes determined.  
“I hear you dad has signed the Ranch over to you, in October it will be mine. I thought it prudent to see where things stand. I’m most certain splitting the land and selling it off will be the best course of action.”  
“That won’t be necessary, the Ranch will continue, albeit with enough changes to see to it that it’s no longer reliant on the banks.”  
“Really? And how do you propose to swing that, you have a very pretty face, but I will have no part in maintaining this trite little place.”

“Once again, you mistake me for someone that requires your approval.”  
“I am your fiancé, it’s about time you started acting like mine,” he roared, closing the gap between them with three large strides.

“You will leave this house, this land and this town immediately Mister Palmer and you will never show your face around here again. Go back to New York, tell them whatever it is you need to in order to make yourself look like the victim, but you will leave, now. I’ve taken the liberty of having your bags packed and they’re waiting by the door. There is a car waiting for you outside that will drive you and Jerry to town. Where you go from there, I couldn’t care less.”

“And why would I do that? because you own this pittance of a place?”  
“No, because I know about Mikey, I know about your warehouse, I know about the shipments you’ve had him intercept and I know that the gang you think you are so well versed in doesn’t take lightly to being stabbed in the back.”

“How dare you threaten me,” he roared, his body towering menacingly over her.  
She stood her ground, her fist clenching but her eyes staying locked on him. She would not bow or draw back from him, not now – not ever.  
The door behind them slid open abruptly, Oliver appearing with a shotgun poised against his shoulder and aimed directly on Ray.  
“You want to see if I’m a good shot Mister Palmer?” he spoke from behind the butt.  
“Oliver has been shooting vermin more slippery than you since he was a child, I guarantee you he won’t miss” Felicity spoke calmly, Oliver’s presence giving her a renewed sense of power.

“The only reason you’re still breathing is because Felicity asked me to stay my hand, but if you don’t step away from her I will make damn sure the mortician won’t be able to pretty up that face for an open casket,” Oliver threatened, not even a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Ray stepped back, a scowl caught in his lips.  
“You need to leave, I won’t ask you again,” Felicity spoke, her voice free from any fear. Ray had nothing on them, they had taken every card he held.

“I suppose that filth will make me,” Ray snarled, her head batting towards Oliver.  
Felicity walked backwards, a smile pressed up in the corner of her lips as she took the shotgun from Oliver’s hands and into her own, her finger bent on the trigger, her head cocked to the side to aim.

“See the thing is Mister Palmer, I’m an awfully good shot myself, they acquitted Beulah May and I have no problem crying on cue. It’s time for you to leave,” she spoke between pressed lips, her finger dancing lightly over the trigger.

Ray didn’t speak a word as he pushed past Oliver’s shoulders, banging his fist against the wall as he collected the leather bags holding all his possession. He stormed from the house, glaring over his shoulder at the two of them as he threw his bags into the backseat of the waiting car.

“Felicity?” Oliver whispered, leaning his lips down to her ear.  
“Mmm?” she replied, mockingly waving Ray farewell as the car drove down the gravel drive.  
“You’re a damn terrible shot.”  
She smiled, shrugging her shoulders gently as she handed the shotgun back to Oliver.  
“Well I know that and you know that but he didn’t know that,” she laughed, the air filling her lungs finally feeling free of the stench that had followed her around for months.

“Is anyone going to tell me what is going on around here?” Donna asked, appearing from the house with Tommy and Macie in tow.

Without a word Felicity embraced her mother, pulling her tightly against her chest and fanning her fingers deep into her crown of hair.  
“I’m sorry for everything, and one day I’ll explain it all I promise, but all I need you to know is that I love you,” Felicity spoke the words softly into her mother’s ear, pressing the lightest of kisses against her temple before she pulled back slightly, rolling her head over her shoulder, glancing back at Oliver.

“And I love him, and I hope that’s okay with you,” she finished, meeting her mother’s eyes, a soft pleading caught in her words.  
“As long as he loves you like you deserve, completely, then I will never stop being happy for you.”

“Let’s take daddy to the water and see him off like he wanted,” Felicity smiled, gently straightening the capped sleeves of her mother’s black dress.  
Donna nodded slowly, twisting a lock of Felicity’s hair around her finger.  
“He always said you were the best of us, there isn’t a doubt in my mind of that.”

* * *

  
The mood was sombre as a light breeze swept across those making their way back along the shore of the lake. The send off had been one that had honoured the patriarch of the family – a man strong in character although not without fault – a farewell he would have loved by those that knew him well and a small scattering of others there for support. The final goodbyes would be said by the community at the church memorial the follow day, Sunday.

Felicity’s hand lay firmly entrenched in Oliver’s, the freeness with which they showed their affection was like a breath of fresh air so sorely needed after the trials such affection had withstood, as they walked along beside her mother. Moira and Thea a few steps behind.

Oliver leaned in, gently kissing Felicity’s temple before she blinked up at him, a thankful wake caught in the deep blue of her iris. She was so caught up in him and him in her that the two of them didn’t notice the figures approaching them from across the fields.

“Is everything alright?” Donna asked, her arm wrapped through Tommy’s for support, as Quentin Lance, dressed in his full uniform approached.  
“I’m sorry for your loss Mrs Smoak, and I hope you pardon the intrusion,” he spoke quietly as he removed his hat and held it tight against his chest.  
“What can we do for you Mister Lance?” Felicity asked, drawing her attention away from Oliver, her hand still firmly entwined in his.

“We’ve received a complaint of sorts Miss, I’m sorry for the timing, but this comes from high up the food chain I’m afraid.”  
“What kind of complaint?” Felicity asked as she saw Ray approaching with two deputies.  
“A theft of some personal items and a substantial amount of money, again, I’m sorry for the timing of this.”  
“If it comes from his mouth, you can be sure it’s a lie.”  
“All the same Miss, we need to have a look around.”  
“My house? I’m sure you can understand this isn’t really the time for this,” Donna replied, her words echoed as Moira took a step forward, stiffly nodding her head.  
“Quinten, her husband has just died, you don’t think this could wait?”

“You’re free to go back to your home Mrs Smoak, I don’t mean to keep you any. This isn’t regarding you, I really just need to talk to Oliver.”  
“What does my son have to do with it?” Moira barked back, her maternal instinct firing hot.  
“Ma, please, Mister Lance said he didn’t mean to trouble us none. Take Mrs Smoak back to the house, we’ll meet you up soon enough,” Oliver replied, a calm hand smoothing down his mother’s arm.

She looked at him with pursed lips, but nodded slowly as she collected Thea’s hand and gestured for the group to carry on back to the house.

“You go too,” Oliver smiled, kissing Felicity’s ear with a quick peck.  
She shook her head softly, but adamantly. Oliver breathed out a smile, reading the surety that was firmly pressed into her expression – she was not going anywhere without him.

“You need me to stay behind?” Macie asked, her eyes travelling up to where the rest of the group was heading.  
“There’s no need to, we’ll be up at the house soon,” Felicity smiled, “but keep an eye out for Bethany, I’m surprised to see she didn’t make it down to the lake with us.”

Macie nodded with a smile, characteristically winking at one of the younger deputies as she hurried to catch up with the group, leaving just Felicity and Oliver standing along the shore of the lake.

“What is it you need to ask me Sir?” Oliver asked, combing a hand through his dampened hair as he respectfully dipped his head.  
“I need to take a look around your lodging Oliver.”  
“The barn?” Oliver asked, tipping his head to the faded red barn that sat against the foot of the hills in the distance.  
“It won’t take but a minute, then you folks can be on your way.”

Oliver nodded as he trotted towards the barn, a place he had spent much of his life in or around.

As Oliver opened the barn doors a flood of memories came cascading into Felicity’s mind. A smile broached her lips as she thought about the times they were children playing foolish games in the long grass of the hills behind the barn, the heated kisses they had shared pressed up against the wall, his hands like a burning ember across her skin as she craved the taste of his lips or the moment they had passionately shared together in making love for the first time.

She blinked softly remembering the way he calmed her nerves, the soft low voice he has used to whisper into her ear. She could still smell the sweet scent of sweat beating off his brow, she could still taste the succulent caress of his lips against her own and as her core fluttered and her body tightened she could still feel the way he had entered her, filling her as her body caved in around him.

A barn that had withstood many a storm, a barn that had not been taken by the threats of fires in the land surrounding – it was a symbol of them. A testimony to how something need not be grand, or expensive to withstand even the toughest of trials.

This was home.

“Is it alright if we take a look around Oliver? I appreciate the timing could be better” Lance spoke apologetically.  
“It’s fine, there ain’t nothing to be found here,” Oliver replied, his free arm gesturing around the barn, his other still latched onto Felicity as he gently eased her behind his back, ensuring the distance was kept between her and Ray.

It was one of the deputies that piped up first with a simple, “I think I found something,” from the lofted bedroom above them.

He clambered down the stairs, holding a shiny silver pocket watch and a pillow case stuffed with money.  
“Those aren’t mine,” Oliver replied through gritted teeth, it was clear what was happening here.  
“Well of course they’re not yours, but you took them anyway, you thief,” Ray remarked, his hands pressed firming into his hips.

“You did this,” Felicity hissed, her cheeks hot with anger as she pointed towards Ray.  
“I’m sorry Oliver,” Lance spoke sternly, taking the cuffs from his belt, “until we have a chance to sort this out I’ll need you to come down to the station.”  
“This is stupid, Oliver didn’t take those things, you know him Mister Lance, you know Oliver wouldn’t,” Felicity pleaded, her hand gripping Oliver’s as he started to let go.

“Hey, this will all be sorted out soon enough, stay with you mam, I’ll be fine,” Oliver reassured, a soft palm smoothing down her cheek.

He placed his hands in front of his body before Lance snapped on the cuffs, blinking a silent apology to Felicity as he walked Oliver from the barn

Felicity watched as Lance and Oliver led the way, the deputies falling in behind. She took a few steps to follow before stopping for a moment to stare through angered eyes back at Ray.

“You bastard, I know this was you’re doing and I will see you go to hell for it,” Felicity spat.  
“You really thought I was willing to just leave, that I would just back away,” Ray replied, a hiss trapped in his tone.  
“Why are you here, you lost Ray. No one will believe Oliver could steal from the likes of you and I will make damn good on my promise to make New York unsafe for you.”

Ray grabbed her wrist flinging her back into the barn as he kicked the door closed.  
“You have driven me wild since the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he purred, his tongue swiping across his lips, “I told you I would break you Felicity, I meant it. You’ll come back to me.”

“You stupid, foolish pig of a man,” she hissed, her voice thick with disgust, “I was _never_ yours, I would _never_ be yours, I hate the bones of you.”  
“You will learn respect,” he stepped forward, imposing his size against her smaller frame.

“Not for you,” she spoke callously.  
His lips fell heavy against hers, forceful and hot before her shoe came crashing down against his toes. He screamed in pain as he stumbled backwards.  
“You disgusting rat. I will see your life reduced to nothing when I am done with you. How dare you touch me,” she screamed, any sense of decorum she once had now lost completely.

“You could have loved me,” he replied, blinking down at his broken toe.  
“I would have never loved you. Even if I had become your wife I would have loved him. Anything you would have wanted from me you would have had to have taken, it would never have been given freely to you,” she yelled, her eyes burning with contempt first him.

She stepped forward her eyes locked onto his, the fierceness in her tone echoing off the walls of the barn.

“If ever you touched me, I would have imagined his hands,” she drove a palm across her shoulder, blinking at the heat of her own hand.

“If ever your lips met mine, I would have thought them his. You are _nothing_ to me. You would have had no part of my mind, my heart or my body, they _all_ belong to him.”  
She felt her blood boiling as she stepped towards him again, the time for holding her tongue now vanished.

“Oliver had every part of me, everything you wanted, I gave to him. In your own house I gave myself to him,” she breathed, venom laced between each word.

Seeing the way he flinched over each word she spoke merely egging her own, swirling up the desire she had to make him snap, to make him crumble. There was no rational thought in her mind, no carefully processed information. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted him to know.

“Even if I was married to you I would have taken him as my lover, given to him what you thought due to you. My every dream would have been of his hands touching me and his lips caressing mine. You are _nothing_ and now I will see you lose _everything_ you have.”

Felicity headed for the door, pushing past him before she reached the door, her hand firm around the handle, her back to him and her heart racing with the fire that she has just spiralled from her mouth, she didn’t see his eyes turn dark and she didn’t see him collect the shovel.

She never heard his muttered words that she wouldn’t get a chance to tell anyone what she knew and, as she opened the barn door and took a breath of the crisp air, she never saw him bring the slightly rusted blade of the shovel down on her head. All she saw was the sun dancing on hill behind the barn quickly replaced by complete darkness.

* * *

  
The sound of the car chugging along the road didn’t mask the distant sound that made Oliver’s ears prick and his eyes dart back towards the Ranch.

“Stop the car,” Oliver pleaded, twisting in the backseat enough to seeing the billowing of smoke filling in the clear sky behind him.  
“Oliver-“ Lance sighed, briefly looking into the backseat before the sight he saw stole the rest of his words.

“Listen,” Oliver panicked, his ears straining to hear the distant, but glaringly familiar sound of the fire bell.

“That smoke, it’s from the Ranch and its big, you have to let me out, you have to let me go back there.”  
“Oliver there are enough people there to sort this,” Lance replied, although there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.  
“Mister Lance, you know I’ve only ever tried to do right by your family, especially Laurel. I swear to God above that if you let me out now to help, I will turn myself back in when the work is done. My word is as good as it’s ever been Sir.”

Lance rolled his lips over his reply, his eyes staring at the growing cloud of thick smoke in the distance.  
“Dammit, alright,” he announced, leaning of the seat to unlock the handcuffs.  
“I’ll take you back,” he added, starting the engine.  
“No need Sir,” Oliver replied, bolting from the door, his arm gestured towards the field next to where they had stopped, “but head to town, that smoke means a fire that will need a truck.”

Lance’s eye drew over the fence which Oliver cleared without hesitation, his eye falling on the horse, Oliver’s horse, who had followed the car loyally since leaving the farm.

Oliver mounted the back of Flash, there was no saddle, no bridle and no reins, but none of that mattered. All Oliver saw was the billowing tower of smoke that looked too thick and too heavy to be from a bush fire; and all he could feel was his heart pounding into his chest when he thought about Felicity – something was wrong.


	24. Find Me There

_**Run to the water** _  
_**and find me there** _  
_**Burnt to the core but not broken** _

The guest house was well and truly ablaze when Flash cleared the last fence onto the Ranch property. Mid gallop Oliver slid from the horse’s bare back, running the moment his feet touched the ground.

The guest house was less than 400 feet from the stable. The stable which was the temporary home to barrels of petrol, highly flammable petrol.  
“Oliver,” Tommy panted, his face covered in thick black ash.  
“What the hell happened?” Oliver yelled, watching the flames lick the walls of the small house.  
“I don’t know, minutes after you left, the house just,” Tommy’s eyes widened, the fear trapped in them easy to read, “it just exploded.”

“That house ain’t going to be saved. Clear the stables,” Oliver called to the others trying in vain to fight the impossible flames.

A window in the front shattered with an ungodly crash, sending Tommy and Oliver stumbling backwards as the flames hissed a fork tongue at them.

“Get everyone out of the estate house, they need to get to the water. If that stable goes up,” he pursed his lips as his head knew what was coming, “Everything goes up.”

Oliver’s eyes rolled over to the chug of an engine starting nearby, it was Ray and his balding shadow, they were leaving.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Oliver called, running a sprint to the car as Ray opened the door, two deputies stood nearby, “This whole place could go up and flames and you’re going to leave?”

The deputies stumbled back, finally realising they should be doing something. They scampered toward the stables to lend a hand shifting the barrels.  
“None of this is my problem,” Ray laughed.  
Oliver’s fist clenched angrily, but he stayed it, reaching instead for the keys plugged into the ignition. He ripped them clean out, ran towards the engulfed house and pitched them into the flames.

“I just made it your fucking problem. Get the women to the lake, then stay there like the coward you are,” Oliver barked with a pointed finger, before turning his attention back to Tommy.

“Where is Felicity?” he asked, a sickening feeling still rife in his heart.  
Tommy blinked up memories, thoughts overrun with adrenaline, “I don’t know,” he stammered, his eyes twitching to find something he may have missed.  
“Did she come up after me?” Oliver snapped, needing Tommy to focus.  
Tommy’s eyes met Oliver’s, the answer written in the lines across his brow, “No,” he replied with a heavy breath, “She didn’t.”

“Get those barrels moved Tommy, if the fire gets any closer, get yourself and the others clear out of the way,” he urged, his palms slapping Tommy’s shoulders, “I need to find her.”

Oliver vaulted onto a waiting Flash, his thick arms pulsing from the strain such a move put on them, but any thought to his own discomfort was never a factor, his only thought of Felicity. He sped down the hill, his eyes ferrying across the smattering of people until they found Macie, Donna, his mother and Thea.  
“Where is Felicity?” he called, twisting Flash in circles his eyes scanning the forest of trees, barely a scratch of focus.  
“She’s not here Oliver, neither is Bethany,” Macie flinched – they had all thought Felicity had left with Oliver.

Oliver didn’t wait for a second longer, starting towards the last place he saw her. It was then he finally saw it. Thick smoke pushing through the gaps in the shingles of the barn roof. It too was on fire. He patted Flash’s neck in three short pulses, egging him to cover the distance faster. He could sense it – Felicity was inside that barn, their barn.

He caught sight of the small figure running towards him, a wave of thick dark hair like a halo around her head.

He dismounted, catching her up at the covered lean-to nearby the corner of the barn.  
“Where is Felicity?” he pleaded, catching the fear in Bethany’s eyes.  
“In there,” she cried, her head tipping towards the barn.  
“I tried,” she whimpered holding out her palms, burnt into raw red patches, edged in charred skin, “I’m sorry.”

Without a second thought Oliver tore the shirt from his body, ripping it clearly in half before plunging it into a nearby clean water trough. He pulled the sopping wet fabric from the trough, wrapping each half around Bethany’s badly burnt hands.

Tying each gently, he smoothed his palms down her tear and soot stained face.  
“Run to the water,” he urged.  
She nodded through cries before she took off towards the lake in the distance.

Oliver ran around the corner towards the door, the heat pulsing from the front of the barn was pushing him back, it was an angry inferno seeking oxygen between the tightly planked walls.

He reached the large double doors, barricaded with a heavy beam, someone had placed it through the handles. He could feel the heat beating off the wall, the fire was at the front of the barn, even if he could get through the doors, the wall of flames would be impossible to breach.

He knew he had one chance to get in there, as soon as he breached the walls, he fed the fire it’s desperately needed air. The entire barn would be engulfed in a minute, a minute-thirty if he was lucky.

Oliver could see the flames licking through the cracks of the smaller door to the side, the door near which he had pressed his body against Felicity’s, hoisting her into the air and pinning her hungrily against the wall. The spot where his lips had devoured hers and his hands had greedily traversed her thighs, desperate to feel every part if her. Black charred patches were scarred into the wood, presumably where Bethany had tried to open it. Oliver knew that if she had been successful she would have been instantly consumed in a wall of flames. He was not getting in this side.

He ran to the back of the barn, the heat pulsing from the walls much less imposing, if he had to guess the fire had not reached this far, yet.  
“Felicity?” he called, banging his fist against every third plank.

He needed to know where she was, he needed to breach the wall close enough to her to get her out fast.

“Felicity?” he called louder, the panic clear in his voice as he held back the pained tears.

He knew she was in there, he could feel it with every part of his body. He knew.  
“Felicity?” he was screaming her name now, his fist pounding against the back wall  
“Oliver?”  
He heard it, just a faint whimper against the deafening whipping sounds of the flames charging across the ceiling.

“Felicity?”  
She heard him again, his voice was not imagined as she had first thought. She touched a hand to her head, it was throbbing. Sticky, thick paste matted her hair, clumping it in knots at the back of her head. Blood she rightly assumed. She struggled for memories, for consciousness as she felt a wave of heat push against her.

 _Fire_ the barn was on fire.  
She was inside the barn.

She coughed, the smoke already invading her lungs. Her eyes blinked, fighting against the imposing flames and blackness around her. Everywhere she looked the haze of yellow and orange touched.

Felicity’s fingers scraped against the dirty floor as she scrambled to push herself backwards, until her back was cowered against the wall.  
“Felicity?!” Oliver called again.  
She twisted her head, seeing the white light of the sun barely peeking through a gap in one of the planks.

“Oliver,” she called back, her voice scratched, barely one that sounded like her own.  
She pushed her fingers through the gap, skinning them against the porous wood. Her fingertips felt the soft breeze and she wept at the sensation.

Oliver saw them, just a few feet away, the smallest of fingers pushing through the gap. Dry blood and dirt stained them, but they moved in a soft wave and his heart lurched at the sight.

He scurried to them, lacing his fingers into hers.  
“Felicity.”  
“Oliver, I can’t see the door, I don’t think I can reach it.”  
“I know baby, I can’t get you out that way, but I’ll get you out, you trust me okay?”

She nodded, pressing her temple to the wood, imagining his breath soft against her ear.  
“Oliver, I’m scared,” she cried, her head pounding, her chest heavy with smoke.

“Can you see the trough near you?”  
“Yes,” she replied, squinting the outline of the water barrel Oliver kept near the bottom of the stairs.  
“Rip your dress, put it in the water and hold it to your mouth, can you do that honey?” his voice trembled over the instructions, but he needed to slow the smoke inhalation down, he couldn’t let her slip unconscious, he needed her to stay awake.

“Yes, I understand,” she replied.  
Bitterly they let go of their fingertip embrace as she retreated her hand. She ripped the silk fabric of her soft pink dress, tearing it just below the knee. She scrambled across the floor, aware she needed to stay as low as possible.

Blindly she plunged the torn fabric into the barrel, pulling it sodden from there moments later. She wrung out the excess and pressed the cool dampness over her mouth and nose, the relief almost instant. She hurried back to the beacon of light through the crack, pushing her fingers through it once again.

Oliver sighed his relief, his face cracking with tears as he saw her fingers breach the wall once again. Reassuringly his fingers skimmed hers, pressing his lips briefly against them.  
“Oliver, I need to say something,” she coughed, her voice muffled against the fabric held against her face.

“Save your breath, I’ll get you out,” he replied, twisting his fingers through a nearby crack.  
He tugged at the plank, desperate to pull it free. He raised his foot, bracing it against the wall, his knuckles turning white as he tried in vain the pull a plank free.

He cursed, ramming his bare shoulder against it, begging for it to buckle under the force. His shoulder jarred, rippling pain down his arm, but he wouldn’t relent, ramming it again and again.  
“Oliver,” she pleaded, her fingers desperately searching for him.  
“I’m here Felicity.”  
“Please take my hand.”

She felt the tears trailing down her hot cheeks, the flames were closing in, the ceiling above her almost completely consumed. Either side of her fires raged, she could see what Oliver couldn’t, she had mere minutes left.

She felt his fingers interlock with hers and a smile brimmed across her face. If this was to be it, then having him near brought her a measure of comfort.  
“I’m scared Oliver,” she coughed, pulling her legs tightly into a ball.  
“I’ll get you out, stay awake, stay with me.”  
She felt his fingers begin to slip from her hands put she tightened around them.  
“I’m not scared of dying Oliver, I’m scared of dying without you knowing how much you mean to me.”  
“Felicity, don’t talk that way.”  
“I need you to know, a thousand times I would say yes to you Oliver, you’re my forever,” he voice became choked, her eyes heavy, her grip dropping.

“To have loved and be loved, you gave me that Oliver.”  
Oliver winced at her words, he recognised them as a goodbye, something he wasn’t willing to accept.

“Think of little Robbie, he has your eyes baby, don’t you give up on him” Oliver pleaded, twisting his fingers into the plank once again.  
Splinters pierced his skin, blood marring his fingers as every muscle strained to force the wood to break free.  
“Think about our house Felicity, can you see it, it’s beautiful,” he cried, his singlet now dripping with sweat.

He saw her fingers flinch.  
“FELICITY,” he called, clutching them as he skidded to his knees.

She felt heavy. Her legs were tired, unresponsive. Her breath was lumbered. Her head was foggy. Flashes of images blinked across her falling eyelids. She saw Oliver, his wide eyes and gaped mouth when he had finally recognised her....

_Felicity, you look....nice, I was going to say nice_

She heard his voice, twanging through his words  
_Why do you call me Miss?_ she had asked  
_I reckon your father would insist on it Miss_

She thought about the little blue and yellow forget me not hairpin, imagining it between her fingers, wondering how it would look worn under a lace veil.

She saw him, as a boy, climbing an apple tree and polishing the stolen fruit in the crook of his elbow before handing it to her. She could almost smell the crisp apple as she bit into it, her eyes never leaving off his.

She recalled the moment by the stable, her body sat atop the fence post, his so close to her, where she had asked him to tell her the truth  
_Do you want to kiss me?_  
His lips pressed softly against hers, the feeling of her fingers tousled through his hair.  
_...either you want me or you don’t_  
His tongue sweeping over her neck, warm, slick, passionate.

 _I love you_  
Kisses across her body  
His tongue delving inside her.  
_I love you_  
Heavy breaths.  
Panted whispers.  
_I love you._  
She had given him everything.  
He had returned it in kind.

 _I love you_  
Hands trailing down her body.  
_I love you_  
The way his hand felt in hers.  
_I love you_

“I love you,” she breathed as her eyes closed and the heaviness overtook her.

“Felicity?” Oliver called again.  
He gripped her fingers, but they were limp against his.  
He felt his heart tighten and his breath crack as his face twisted over the thought he couldn’t set aside.

He looked around, desperate for something to use to break the wall. His eyes fell to Flash, agitated by the smell and heat of the fire, but dutifully waiting nearby regardless.

He whistled him over and dubiously Flash complied, digging his hoof into the ground when he had come as close as he was willing.

Oliver ran soothing palms down the length of his face, their eyes locked.  
“You trust me boy,” he whispered, patting his neck with a heavy but slow hand.  
He walked him backwards, gently stroking heavy lines down his face when he reared.

He could see the fear in his horse’s eyes, but he also saw the trust forged through the years. Flash’s tail swished against the wall, rearing his head and chomping through his unease.  
“We got this boy, one kick, give me one kick,” Oliver pleaded, his head laid against his muzzle.

As if understanding each word Oliver spoke, Flash drew back his hind leg and kicked it fiercely against the wooden plank, hitting it with such force that it cracked clear down the middle and splintered it into shards.

Oliver moved swiftly, his bleeding hands pulling at the shards of wood, casting the aside when they came loose. It took seconds to make room enough for him to clambered into the barn. As he expected the flames swooped in, scolding the shirt on his back, he felt the flames lick into his skin, but he didn’t falter under the excruciating pain as he scurried across the floor heading for where he knew Felicity was.

It felt like hours that he searched through the thick smoke until he finally saw her limp against the wall. His heart pounded at the sight of her, so small, so frail. Adrenaline ripped through his veins as he pulled her up into his arms and sprinted back to the opening he had made.

The heated air scourged his throat, crippling his lungs, but he pushed on relentless.  
She was his _always_.  
She was his _forever_.

He burst through the smoke just as Tommy and Quentin came running towards the barn.

They hadn’t known the barn was also engulfed in flames, their efforts focused on containing the fire at the other end of the Ranch. It had only been once all the petrol had been moved well out of the path and the fire trucks had arrived to keep the fire contained as best they could, that Tommy, together with Lance had made their way to the lake where everyone else had congregated.

Tommy had tried to find Oliver and it had been Bethany who had told them, through heavy tears coursing with pain, where they could find him.

“Oliver, what happened?” Tommy puffed, watching as Oliver lay Felicity’s limp body onto to the grass, the fire raging fiercely in the background, the barn now completely engrossed.

Oliver never heard the voice of his friend, never saw anything but Felicity, her eyes closed in what looked like a peaceful slumber, but her body broken, blood matted through her once pristine golden hair, her dress torn and dirty, her once milky skin marred with smoke and ash and her arm scarred where the flames had taken their price.

His hands scoped her head up, his thumbs gently soothing down her neck. Tears twisted across his face as he held her tight against his chest.  
“Felicity, wake up baby, wake up,” he pleaded, his hands sweeping across her face, cradling her head in his lap.

He closed his eyes, wishing to take her place rather than to see her this broken.  
With all the noise around pushed to the back of his mind, every sense he had focused on her, willing her to just breath, to just hold on – to stay with him. He felt it, just a light breeze against his soot stained cheek, but it was enough, she was breathing.

“Oliver is she?” Tommy asked, afraid to let the last word fall from his lips.  
“No, she’s breathing, but only just,” Oliver replied, his eyes never falling from her.

His whole body tensed, his muscles taunt against the strain as he lifted her up, her limp head falling over his arm, her hair swaying like a waterfall through the air.  
“Stay with me,” he breathed, kissing her forehead, her once fragrant scent now tarnished with smoke and ash.

Tommy’s eyes tracked over Oliver’s back, he had been without any protection from the blaze as it reached its hottest point when air poured in through the breach in the wall. The thin cotton singlet had melted away, just strips of it were melted to his back, the rest was skin burnt into fiercely red patches. The mere sight of it made Tommy recoil as he watched his friend use any ounce of strength and resilience he had left remaining in him so carry Felicity towards the lake.

“Oliver, let me or Mister Lance carry her, your back, its..” he stopped his words again, aware he could not find the word to truly explain the scarred and torn flesh he could see.  
“No,” Oliver replied simply, fighting his strained shoulder against the pain coursing through it.  
“Oliver, we can take her,” Quentin added, seeing also what Tommy could.

Oliver shook his head, his heart aware that if she didn’t make it, then no matter what – no matter how his body screamed at him – she would be in his arms.

The soft breath against his next pushed him to forge one step after the other. His face twisted in agony and his heart did the same. He whispered words to her, simple words, not to be heard by anyone else.  
“I love you.”  
“I’ve got you.”  
“Stay with me.”  
“I can’t be without you.”  
“I need you.”  
“I love you.”

The crowd of eyes that had rallied around the lake all fell to Oliver as he approached. It was Donna who ran towards him her hands clutched to her chest, her body stumbling to the ground as she saw the face of her only child marred and seemingly lifeless.

Oliver laid her down feet away from the gently lapping shoreline of the lake, her hair splaying out across the thick green grass like a twisted halo around her head.

“She’s breathing, but only just,” he spoke, his voice hoarse and cracked as his eyes looked up pleadingly to a house maid he knew to be a retired nurse.

The kindly older lady nodded as she dropped her feet, pressing two fingers against the pulse point along Felicity’s neck.  
“He’s right, she’s breathing.”  
Donna cried in relief as she scooped Felicity’s hand into her own.

“Oliver what happened, where was she?” she asked through stammered breaths.  
Oliver stood, his eyes scouring the faces of the people looking back at him, until he saw the only one he was looking for.

Before an explanation could be given or another word spoken, Oliver ran and lunged at Ray, his left fist meeting with the curve of Ray’s jaw. The devastating blow sent Ray crashing to the ground, Oliver baying for blood as anchored himself atop him, pounding his fists relentlessly into Ray’s face.

The blood splattered across his knuckles, staining over his own dried blood as he landed blow after blow without restraint, without thought, without mind on any consequence.  
“You, you did this, you did this,” he yelled, his voice one completely foreign to him.

It was Jerry who landed the right punch to Oliver’s temple, knocking him just enough to make him fall back from the torrent of punches he had rained down on Ray’s face.

From there it was Tommy and Quentin who held him back, the rage still pulsing without recompense through Oliver’s eyes. Jerry lunged, but was caught by the two deputies before he could land another blow.

Ray scooted along the grass, his hands blindly touching his batted and bleeding face as he finally stumbled to his feet.  
“You’re a god damn sheriff, that filth needs to be in handcuffs, I will see him pay for this,” Ray screamed, holding his palm against his torn eye socket before he spat a pool of blood to the ground.

Oliver fought against the restraint of his friends, his fists eager to get the revenge they craved.  
“Oliver what in the hell is wrong with you?” Quentin lashed, he had known Oliver most of his life, but the man he was holding back with every bit of strength he had was like a man possessed.

“He did this, you left her alone with her and he did this.”  
“This man is clearly crazy,” Ray bit back.  
“You locked her in a burning barn, you left her there to die,” Oliver hissed, the veins in his neck throbbing through every word.

Oliver pulled one arm free from Tommy’s grasp and wrenched the second arm from Quentin’s.

One of the deputies holding back Jerry stepped forward, placing a hand against Oliver’s chest. Oliver blinked, catching the glimmer of metal in the high afternoon sun. He didn’t have any plan and was barely thinking mere seconds ahead of every action. Before he could fathom what he was doing, he had snatched the young deputy’s pistol from his holster and had it aimed directly at Ray’s head.

It took seconds for the other’s around to react.  
Jerry reached for his shouldered pistol, pulling it free from behind his jacket and pointing it directly at Oliver.  
The second deputy released his gun, levelling the barrel at Jerry.  
Quentin responded the same, but his gun hesitantly aimed at Oliver, his face twitching through the conflict such an action had.

“You tried to kill her and I will see you die for it,” Oliver spoke bitterly.  
“What are you waiting for, shoot the man, he has a gun pointed at me,” Ray retorted angrily.  
“Oliver put the gun down,” Tommy urged, his hands raised as Macie and Bethany cowered behind him.

“No, he needs to die,” Oliver stammered through clenched teeth.  
“Oliver this isn’t the way, put the gun down,” Quentin urged, noting his own hands shaking over the trigger.  
“You couldn’t have her in this life, so you tried to take her from it,” Oliver’s voice cracked, his lips twisting over each word, his eyes pulled inward, the torment he felt etched in every line of his face “and I will see you die for it,” he jutted the gun towards Ray.

“For god sakes, shoot him,” Ray spat, stepping back to cower behind his lackey.  
“Oliver do you have any proof?” Quentin pleaded.  
“Look at her, that’s all the poof you need.”  
“Oliver, anything?”  
“He was the last one with her, you know he did it,” Oliver replied, growling his words.  
“She was fine when I left her, upset that she had decided to fall for an idiot like you, a thief with no real prospects,” Ray mocked.  
“You’re lying!”  
“Am I? She took off that ridiculous thread ring you gave her, told me I could have it, then she put my ring back on, begged me to take her back.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Oliver screamed, advancing a step forward, the rage beating off his forehead.  
The two guns point at him flinched but kept them aim.  
“Look at her hand, she begged me to take her back to New York, she said she never wanted to see you. I said I wasn’t interested in someone who would give themselves so freely to whomever asked,” Ray scathed, his lips twisting into a smirk.  
He spat another mouthful of blood into the grass, “she was upset, but alive when I left her, she probably did it to herself, ashamed of her no good lover.”

“Shut up, shut up,” Oliver tensed, his head twisting against the desperate inclination to pull the trigger  
“Oliver, put the gun down,” Quinten urged.  
“Shoot him,” Ray pushed.

Bethany felt her body trembling with fear, her heart a rack of emotions that her young mind struggled to reason with.

 _“All I ask is that when you have a chance to do right by someone that you take it. It won’t always be the easiest way and it won’t always be a way that best suits you”_  
_“Then how will you know it’s the right thing to do?”_  
_“You just will”_

Her eyes blinked between Oliver, Ray and the guns pointed in the standoff before dropping to Felicity, who still lay unconscious and barely breathing on the grass.

_You just will._

“It’s true,” she quaked, stepping out from the protective arm Macie had swooped around her when the guns came out.  
“Shut up,” Ray hissed.  
Bethany shrunk back, her eyes riddled with tears, her freshly cleaned and bandaged hands shaking at her sides.

_It won’t always be the easiest way_

She stiffened her lip, and raised her chin, mirroring the stance Felicity had taken that night she saw Ray hit her.  
“I will not,” she spoke, her eyes looking down to Felicity, “I will not be afraid of you anymore, she wasn’t.”

“Bethany, do you know something?” Macie asked, holding the shoulders of the trembling child.  
“Everything Oliver says is true, everything and more. I know because I saw it all, I saw everything and I’m so sorry,” she cried, closing her eyes to squeeze out the hot tears.

“Ray killed Mala, I know because I was there, he made me hold her.”  
Oliver’s face twisted in venomous rage towards Ray, his finger twitching over the trigger, every uncontrolled thought urging him to pull it.  
“Ray hit her in New York, I know because I saw it and I cried on the floor with her, but she made me promise not to tell, I’m sorry.”

She breathed in, desperate to mimic the strength Felicity had shown – the only person of such a station in life that had ever shown her unmeasured kindness.  
“He made me put the things in your room Oliver.”  
“Shut up you stupid little girl,” Ray snapped, his eyes locked on the tiny girl, his roar enough to shake her.

“You don’t talk to her,” Macie snapped back, placing her body in front of Bethany.  
“Don’t you pay him no mind, he can’t hurt you, everyone here will make sure of it,” she continued, leaning down to Bethany’s eye level.

Bethany nodded, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders, her milky cheeks flushed red and blotched with tears.  
“I was so ashamed by what I did after all the kind things Miss Felicity has done for me, I didn’t want to face her, so I ran away and hid in the tall grass behind the old barn and I prayed that I could be forgiven.”

Ray’s face stiffened, he had not counted on that.

“I saw you leave in cuffs,” she spoke, her eyes trained on Oliver, whose head was moving between Bethany and Ray.  
“I heard her say that she didn’t love you none,” she pointed a shaking finger at Ray, “that she would never love you. I saw you hit her across the head with a shovel.”

Voices gasped throughout the crowd of onlookers. Oliver stumbled back at the thought, the tacky blood that knotted her beautiful hair, that was him – the mere thought of it pushed him backwards, stealing the breath from his lungs.

“I saw you talking to him about something before you handed him a lantern,” she continued, her finger now moving across to Jerry, “then I saw you carry her inside.”

She swiped away tears, her resolving getting stronger by the minute.  
_You just will._

“I know I should have run for help then, but I was scared, Ray told me he would kill my family if I spoke a word of anything to anyone, after what he did to Mala, I believed him, I’m so sorry.”

Oliver’s lips twisted over the vile thought that Ray had held Felicity, bleeding, in his arms, that he had touched her, he had hurt her.

“You’re just a child Bethany, you did nothing wrong,” Macie breathed, pulling the small girl into her embrace.  
“He was in the barn so long, I’m sorry, I should have helped her,” she cried, “he came out through the big doors and I saw the flames starting small around the ground. I watched him close the doors and put the block of wood through them. I waited till he left and I ran down the hill. I tried to open the door, but I couldn’t. I tried, I’m sorry,” she whimpered, folding her bandaged hands under her arms.

“I’m so sorry Oliver, I should have done more.”  
Oliver saw nothing else but the tip of the barrel aimed directly at Ray. The noise around him grew echoed. He thought he heard the words of Quentin urging him to put the gun down.

He thought he heard the muffled sounds of Ray demanding someone shoot him.

He thought he saw Felicity’s face, beautiful and serene standing next to him, a feathered hand blowing down his arm like a wisp of smoke, pleading for him to not spill the blood he desperately wanted to.

He heard the tears of her mother behind him, weeping over a child that wouldn’t wake up. He heard the cries of his own mother, pleading for him to see sense.

He thought he heard the muffled words of his sister, calling out to him.

He thought he smelt the sweet scent of Felicity’s perfume lingered near his mouth.

 _Oliver, put the gun down_ the beautiful figure next to his shoulder whispered, her form dancing with the wind

It was her soft voice, like a song in his ear.  
_Oliver, put the gun down_  
The sweet sound of it, like the warmest of days.  
_Oliver, put the gun down_  
It became clearer, the echo replaced with a sudden burst of noise. Crying mothers, his sister calling his name, Quentin begging him to see sense.

“Oliver, put the gun down.“  
The figure beside him vanished.  
“Oliver.”  
He twisted his neck to see her, reaching her hand to him, a flickered smile trying to push over her parched lips.  
“Please,” he watched her whisper.

He dropped the gun, his breath stopping as he realised she was not a dream, not a mirage, she was alive, she was awake.

He ran to her, the small distance seemingly to be endless before he fell to the ground beside her, folding his arms around her, enveloping her into his protective wrap, his tears bleeding into her skin as she hugged him back.

“I thought I lost you,” he cried, pressing his lips to her neck as he gently rocked with her back and forth.  
“I here Oliver, I’m right here,” she replied, stroking her hands down his face.

 _I’m here._  
_I love you._

**_Burnt to the core but not broken_ **

**~The End~**


	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I updated two chapters at once (this and Chapter 25) make sure you've read 25 first ;)

**September 1930**

“So, you see, that’s why you should always be kind, even to girls,” Oliver smiled, balancing the intrigued 5 year old on his lap as the sun began to set under the ridgeline of rolling hills.

“What stories are you filling our son’s head with?” Felicity asked pressing a gentle kiss into Robert Noah Queen’s head, although he preferred Robbie.  
“It seems little Sara next door has taken to Robbie with a fondness,” Oliver replied, watching with loving eyes as Felicity walked around to the front of the swing seat, a sleepy 2 year old perched on her hip and snuggled into her arm.

“And what was your advice?” she breathed with softly pouted lips, barely a hint of any stain, but blushing their natural red.

Oliver swept his hand across the empty space next him, gesturing for Felicity to take her place beside him. She obliged, as was their tradition, laying little Adeline in the space beside her, a tumble of blond curls spilling onto her lap.

“I told him that you ought treat everyone kindly, because you never know what they will mean to you in life,” Oliver cooed, holding a lingering warm kiss against Felicity’s temple

“She keeps bringing me flowers Mama, I ain’t a girl, I don’t reckon I like flowers,” Robbie huffed, blowing a wave of air through his mop of blonde hair.

Felicity laughed at the nuances that little Robbie shared with his father.  
“You know even the toughest of men can like flowers,” she smiled, laying her head against Oliver’s shoulder, briefly remembering the month’s after the fire that claimed many of the buildings in the Ranch, and the hours she had spent each night tending to the burns across his back and shoulders.

He wore the twisted scars proudly and without regret, and she looked at the with love, kissing them gently whenever a quiet moment allowed for it. They were written in his skin as a testimony, not of things lost, but of the strength one can find.

Oliver laughed jovially at the disgusted face his son wore.  
“That ain’t right,” the small boy grinned.  
“It is so, your father bought me this very hairpin and it has a flower on it,” she replied, dancing her fingertips over pin nestled in her hair.

“Did you Pa?” Robbie asked, the crisp blue of his eyes dancing like lanterns against around his pupils.  
“I certainly did and my life is all the better for it,” Oliver sighed, his eyes landing softly against the rosy cheeks of his always.

The lips of the little boy turned up in a smile that ran through his cheeks and into his eyes as he whipped the hat from Oliver’s head and folded it onto his own.

The sound of gravel being rolled under tires crept up the hillside, announcing the arrival of a visitor. The car stopped alongside the house and a familiar face stepped from the backseat.  
“Where are those grand babies of mine?” Donna quipped, smoothing down the simple, but effortlessly styled blue dress she wore.

“Nana,” Adeline called, instantly rousing from her reclined tiredness.  
“Mama it’s Nana look,” she giggled, patting Felicity’s face with unbridled glee.

“We weren’t expecting you,” Felicity smiled, helping Adeline from the swing seat.  
“I had some mail for you and I ran into Mister Diggle in town, he offered to give me a ride.”  
“Well you’re always welcome, Miss Adeline was about to have her bath.”  
Donna clapped her hands excitedly together as she hurried inside the house, the two children in tow. No longer was she the stiffly reserved mother Felicity had known, but the loss of so much had taught her mother the value on enjoying what life sees to give you.

The fire had completely destroyed the guest house and the stables but had only scorched the outer walls of the estate house, leaving most of the inside unharmed, it could have been fixed, but Donna felt her life was no longer tethered to such a building.

Verdant Cattle Ranch was laid to waste that day, what was left of the stock and the finer things that graced the estate house were sold off. Donna Smoak settled into a quaint house just outside of town, not far from Oliver’s family. She lived a more than comfortable life and what time she didn’t spend doting on her grandchildren, she spent in the company of the kindly woman of the town, eager to allow all women, rich, poor, married or unmarried, the freeness to chose a path for themselves.

She spoke very seldom of Noah, she had read the truth in his letter and while she forgave him, perhaps in herself always knowing the unspoken truth, they were never soul mates, destined to love beyond death. When she visited the memorial of him, she shed a tear not always for a lost husband but more often for a lost friend.

The sweeping expanse of land that was once a foothold in the community was divided up, much of it sold with the exception of three portions. The larger of the three was comprised of the rolling hills along the eastern and southern borders, down to the lake and along the forested ridgeline, the outdoor wash tub now relocated to a tree-curtained plot that overlooked the lake, in its place stood the stables for the Verdant Queen Ranch, a fledgling – but flourishing – horse ranch, helped with the backing, in name only, of the Rankins.

“John, would you like to come inside?” Oliver asked his trusted friend, pressing a palm into John’s through the window of his car.  
“Thank you for the offer, but the missus is at home waiting,” John smiled with a kind tip of his hat.  
“Will you say his to Lyla and Sara for us,” Felicity spoke, linking her arm with Oliver’s as she too stood beside the car.  
“I’ll be sure to Felicity. Sara tells me she’s quite fond of Robbie,” John laughed, “but she reckons he’s not wise to it yet.”  
“Well he is Oliver’s son,” Felicity smirked, tumbling her fingers down her husband’s arm.  
“So he’ll come around to it in seven years,” John winked starting the car with a soft chug.

Since John’s return from New York shortly after the fire they had gifted their friend the smaller parcel of land not sold as a gift for his unwavering support and as a thank you for the pivotal role he played in the downfall of Ray Palmer.

 _Ray Palmer_ was not a name to be spoken around the Ranch, not because of any lore or any reverential fear given to it, but in fact because of the very opposite. Such a man held no place in their minds, reduced to an inconsequential moment in time. A rock in a flowing riverbed that sought to separate the path of the water, only to be broken apart by the current it carried. He had tried to stand in the path of the love carried in the current of Oliver and Felicity’s entwined lives, only to be broken apart by the sheer force of it.

He was arrested that day and never felt the fresh, free air on his face again. The FBI had been eager to scoop him, and the information John had uncovered, away back to New York. Faced with an unsurmountable amount of time behind bars Ray had shown his self preserving narrative and rolled on the Outfit, buying him a shorter sentence and ensuring he would be out enjoying his wealth in less than 10 years.

His family’s money afforded him a measure of safety behind bars, but when the stock market plummeted and his wealth was reduced to nothing more than pennies he was left vulnerable and marked. He was found the next morning with a homemade shiv embedded in his back. Not one person rendered him aid and he died in tattered prison clothes, buried in a plywood coffin with no fancy headstone. His life reduced to nothing.

Mary suffered a similar fate, the Outfit assured of her involvement, took their own vengeance. She was gunned down in the streets of Manhattan, dressed in all her finery but in the end all that money made her death no more glamorous.

They were not spoken of again.  
Dust in the wind.

The last plot of land was gifted to Laurel Lance and her son Henry, Felicity’s publicly acknowledged half brother. In a humbled moment Laurel made peace with her embittered anger towards the life that Felicity had once represented. It was no more Felicity’s fault than it was Henry’s. The circumstances of all things done before were out of their control, but Felicity had honoured one of her father’s last wishes, she saw to fixing what he could not. Extending the Smoak name and a portion of the land that held the legacy of it was Felicity’s olive branch, which Laurel had accepted.

Sadly she only saw another spring before she fell ill and passed shortly after. The land lay untouched and vacant, but held in trust for Henry, ready to be his when his age allowed it. For now he lived with his grandparents, spending long afternoons with Oliver and Robbie tending and training the horses. He went by his mother’s last name, but the 8 year old was aware of his roots and was gracious for the welcomed family.

Oliver waved to John as the car disappeared to into a dust cloud down the hill. He wrapped an arm around Felicity pulling her into a tight embrace as the sky was painted with the pink and dusted orange hues of sunset.

“It’s a letter from Tommy and Macie,” Felicity smiled, thumbing the first envelope her mother had handed her.  
“Read it,” Oliver urged.  
Felicity peeled back the lip of the enveloped post marked from New York City and folded open the note from inside.

_Dear Ma and Pa_

_We miss you like crazy, we should like to visit soon, so be prepared for us to turn up on your doorstep with oodles of luggage and a bottle of bathtub gin we forgot about from years passed._

_I’ve landed another Broadway gig, it ain’t Hollywood, but I’ll make it there soon, you wait and see, although I know you’ve always believed in me Felicity, a girl couldn’t ask for better._

_Tommy is selling his jewellery to the finest of stores, making a real name for himself and living free to be who he wants. I can’t help but love having a roommate that can wear a dapper suit and dance circles around the dance floor on a Saturday night. I swear I would marry that man for his polished shoe collection alone if I could._

_He’s happy Felicity, it’s a beautiful thing._  
_I’m happy too, dating a kind hearted fella from the Midwest, I figure perhaps if a country rooted boy was good enough for your then perhaps it might just be perfect for me too._

_I tell you, the man is blessed in many ways, many ways that matter if you catch my meaning._

_Give those children a hug from us, their fun Aunt and Uncle._

_We love you._  
_Xox_  
_Macie & Tommy_

Oliver nodded with a growing smile, ever thankful his best friend had found his place in the world.

“And the other letter?” he asked, touching a finger to the sealed envelope.  
Felicity looked at it and smiled brightly when she saw the sender’s name.  
“It’s from Bethany.”

She tore it open and began to read it gingerly.

_Dear Felicity,_

_School is amazing. I will continue to start every letter to you with that summation and my everlasting thankfulness that you found it in your heart to pay my tuition to this place._

_One day I hope to be able to repay you, not with money as I know that has never held much value to you, but in honouring you by doing what I can to ensure another lost girl, just as I was when you took me under your wing, is afforded the same as you have given me – a chance at a life worth so much more._

_I am forever thankful to you and Oliver for this gift._

_Mother is doing well in the factory, she says they treat her well and she doesn’t worry like she once did. Father is doing so much better, he loves me reading to him and he can tell me so now without a hesitation. It is a blessing, a miracle even._

_Thea says she will write Oliver soon, but that she enjoys school here too and is making the most of this precious gift._

_I love you greatly, you are truly the best person I have ever had the privilege of meeting._

_I am eternally grateful._

_Love,_  
_Bethany_

Felicity brushed aside the happy tears that sprouted from her eyes. The young girl who had cried with her on the floor of the bedroom, the young girl who wore scars on her hands from an attempt to get into a burning building, the young girl who had spoken up bravely when the time came – she was a testimony to the power one can have over another’s life simply by being kind in whatever means you could be.

“Sit with me,” he sighed, breathing in the heavenly scent of his wife, the softly danced licks of orange blossoms and vanilla, a precious smell he knew he was lucky to fall asleep next to.

“Walk with me some,” Felicity replied, her hand folding into the waist band of Oliver’s pants as she moved him forward towards the sloping curve of the hill.  
“This is the spot,” Felicity sighed through pouted lips curved up at the corners.  
“I remember,” Oliver replied, pressing his lips hungrily against Felicity’s.

Felicity melted into the kiss, an uncountable number had been shared between them but each one felt new and irreplaceable.

Where they stood now is where they had stood years before, next to a barely laid foundation, offering each other a promise. A promise to always love in honesty, to be the other’s strength when one felt weak, to be the other’s light when the darkness crept in. Promises they had kept as Oliver built her house and together they built a family.

Oliver caught the tenderness wisped in Felicity’s eyes, it had been the same all those moments ago when he kissed her as his wife for the first time, the wind whipping up the antique lace veil, waving to all those stood atop the hill with them, and those laid to rest nearby.

She was beautiful then, and he had never spent a day thinking anything else.

 **_Home_ **  
**_Forever, for always._ **

 

**__**

**[Waters Run Deep .... Ficlets ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8484535/chapters/19442926) **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh I can't believe I finished it.
> 
> A BIG thank you to everyone who has taken the time to support this little story of mine. I have loved writing it, even the moments where I wondered what the hell I was doing....
> 
> Seriously, without the support of those of you that offered it willingly, I would never have seen this idea through.
> 
> Thank you for reading.  
> I love you from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> Xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, would love to hear your thoughts in whichever form they take.
> 
> My slight OCD also requires I reply to every comment, so there is that....
> 
> Twitter: @someonesaidcake


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